Here is the sixth chapter. Do let me know your thoughts, feedback, and any suggestions for improvement. Your support means a lot!
Posted: October 13, 2024
Chapter 7: Little Snake's club
Harry found himself standing outside a room opposite the Slytherin common room, an invitation from Daphne Greengrass in his hand. The dimly lit, cold stone corridors of the dungeons weren't exactly welcoming, but Harry had gotten used to them over the past few weeks. This invitation was different, though. Daphne had invited him to join a small, private study group she had been running for the past two years. Unlike Dumbledore's Army, which often felt large, chaotic, and crowded, this group promised to be more intimate, focusing on all subjects, not just Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Taking a breath, Harry opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, the difference between this group and Granger's club became apparent. The room was warm, lit with flickering green lanterns that gave off a soft glow. The chairs were arranged in a circle around a large table, covered in neatly organized books and parchment. Instead of the noisy buzz that typically accompanied Dumbledore's Army meetings, here there was a quiet focus, an atmosphere of disciplined study. The group was small, composed of a handful of Slytherins: Tracey Davis, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Astoria Greengrass, and a few lower-year students who looked slightly intimidated but eager to learn.
Daphne greeted him with a nod and a knowing smile. "Welcome to our little group, Potter. We've been doing this for two years now, so don't worry about being a newcomer. We cover all subjects, not just defense, and help each other out in every way," she explained, her voice calm but with a hint of pride.
Harry smirked at her slightly competitive tone. "My club is older than Granger's, and her idea wasn't exactly original," Daphne added with a playful edge, as if dismissing the significance of Dumbledore's Army.
Shaking his head, Harry found it amusing how even in academics, rivalry between the houses—especially between Daphne and Granger—seemed to bubble beneath the surface. Still, there was no denying that this small Slytherin group was far more advanced in their studies than Longbottom's club. The students here were serious and precise. Harry liked it more here; the smaller, focused group felt more comfortable for him since he had never liked big crowds anyway.
As the session began, the students fell into their routines. They spent most of the session practicing advanced charms and discussing complex transfiguration techniques. Blaise and Theodore, who seemed completely at ease in this setting, led the discussions with confidence. Blaise's quiet, sharp intelligence showed as he guided the lower-year students through the intricacies of conjuring spells, explaining how to control the magical flow to create longer-lasting objects. His explanations were concise, but Harry could see the younger students, like one nervous third-year, hanging onto every word.
On the other side, Tracey Davis was sitting with a couple of second-year students, helping them review their notes on advanced shielding charms. She had a patient demeanor, quietly encouraging them when they stumbled. At one point, when one of the younger students mispronounced the incantation for Protego, causing a weak shield to flicker out, Tracey leaned forward and repeated the charm slowly, guiding the younger student until they got it right. "Good, now try again but with more focus on your wand movement," Tracey advised gently.
Harry was impressed. The older students weren't just showing off their knowledge—they were genuinely helping the younger ones, making sure everyone understood. There was no arrogance here, just mutual respect and a desire to learn. It was a refreshing change from the larger group dynamic in Dumbledore's Army, where it sometimes felt like people were just trying to keep up.
Daphne led a part of the session that focused on transfiguration, specifically human transfiguration, which was far beyond the level taught in their regular classes. She demonstrated how to manipulate facial features with precision, explaining how the smallest change in concentration could lead to drastic and unintended effects. "It's all about control," she said, her voice smooth and authoritative. "You have to have complete mastery over the form you're trying to transfigure. Otherwise, you risk turning someone's nose into a beak permanently."
Harry practiced alongside the others, quietly impressed by the level of discipline in the room. While the session was relaxed, there was an air of seriousness that made the study feel productive. The older Slytherins clearly knew their stuff, and Harry couldn't help but compare it to the more chaotic atmosphere of Dumbledore's Army, where everyone was still trying to master the basics.
As the group wrapped up for the evening, Harry found himself enjoying the experience more than he had anticipated. The calm, structured nature of the session, combined with the depth of knowledge displayed by the students, had made it more than just another study session—it felt like a place where real learning happened.
While the group was in deep conversation about a particularly challenging transfiguration concept—something about the complexities of altering bone structure safely—Harry noticed Astoria Greengrass, Daphne's younger sister, quietly slide over to where he was sitting. The contrast between the two sisters was immediately apparent. While Daphne was all poise and precision, Astoria carried a mischievous energy, like she was always on the edge of causing some playful trouble.
"So, you're good at runes, right? Daphy says so," Astoria said, her eyes glinting with curiosity and a teasing grin on her face.
Harry raised an eyebrow, surprised by the casual approach. "Daphy?" he asked, his tone amused.
Astoria giggled, her laughter light and carefree. "Yeah. She calls me Tori, so I call her Daphy," she said with a smirk, casting a quick glance at her older sister, who was deep in discussion with Blaise and Theodore but still seemed aware of the exchange. Daphne's lips tightened ever so slightly, and she shot a quick, annoyed glance in their direction, clearly frustrated by the distraction Astoria was causing.
"Is that so?" Harry replied, fighting back a smile. He leaned back in his chair, momentarily forgetting the intense study session, enjoying this small break of lightheartedness.
Astoria nodded enthusiastically. "Mm-hmm! She hates it, but I think it suits her. Don't you think so, Daphy?" she called out, her voice lilting with deliberate mischief.
Daphne shot them both a sharp look, her eyes narrowing. "Tori," she said, her voice low and exasperated, "could you please focus? We're discussing advanced transfiguration, not how to annoy your older sister."
Harry couldn't help but chuckle, which only seemed to deepen Daphne's frustration. It was a rare sight to see the usually composed Daphne Greengrass so off-balance, and he found it oddly refreshing. Her little sister had a way of bringing out a different side of her, and Harry enjoyed watching the dynamic.
Despite Daphne's clear irritation, Astoria leaned in closer to Harry, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "She's just mad because I'm better at charms," she whispered, though not quietly enough to avoid Daphne hearing. Daphne rolled her eyes but didn't rise to the bait.
Harry grinned. "Is that why she's trying to keep you so busy with transfiguration?"
"Probably," Astoria whispered back with a wink. "She thinks if I focus on transfiguration more, I won't have time to show off my charm skills. But that's beside the point. Daphy says you're the best at runes, are you? She rarely praises anyone—it's like she's almost... She-".
"Tori, go help the younger students with their wand movements for the Protego charm. They're struggling, and I'm sure your charm skills would be very helpful," Daphne interrupted Astoria, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though there was an underlying affection in her words that only siblings could understand.
Astoria pouted theatrically before standing up, her playful energy shifting toward the group of lower-year students. "Fine, fine, Daphy. But don't think this conversation is over," she said with a dramatic flair, causing Harry to laugh again.
As Astoria walked away, Harry leaned back in his chair, still smiling. Daphne turned back to him, her expression softening just a little now that the interruption was over. "Sorry about her," she muttered, though her tone was more resigned than annoyed.
"Don't be," Harry replied. "She's got a lot of energy. Reminds me a bit of some people I know."
Daphne gave him a sharp look but then sighed. "She's always like that. She thinks because I'm older, I'm trying to control her life. It's just sibling stuff, I suppose."
"Yeah," Harry said, understanding more than she might realize. "It's nice, though."
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Nice? How so?"
Harry shrugged. "You two. It's clear you care about each other, even if she drives you a bit mad. Trust me, that's not a bad thing."
For a moment, Daphne looked at him, her eyes studying his expression carefully, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight nod, she said, "Maybe."
Despite her initial annoyance, Harry could tell that Astoria's teasing and playful demeanor hadn't bothered Daphne as much as she pretended. In fact, there was a warmth in her expression now, a subtle shift from her usual cool, composed self. It made her seem a little more human, a little more approachable.
As the study session continued, Harry found himself occasionally glancing over at Astoria, who was animatedly helping a group of second-year students with their wand movements. She was clearly in her element, and despite her younger age, the students seemed to be drawn to her enthusiasm and energy. Harry couldn't help but think that there was more to the Greengrass sisters than met the eye. Beneath the Slytherin coolness, there was a bond of care and loyalty that wasn't as obvious, but just as strong as any other family.
And though Greengrass would probably never admit it, Harry suspected she appreciated her little sister's presence far more than she let on.
In the weeks that followed, nothing unusual happened in classes—at least, nothing beyond Umbridge's increasingly obvious misuse of power. She had recently been appointed as Hogwarts' High Inquisitor, a position that gave her more authority than anyone wanted her to have. With her new title, Umbridge seemed to take great pleasure in meddling in the daily operations of the school. Her presence in the corridors felt suffocating, and her inspections were becoming more frequent, popping into classes at random and making notes on her ever-present clipboard.
'She's rolling through various classes, interrupting teachers left and right,' Harry thought with a sigh. He couldn't go a day without hearing her sickly sweet voice cutting through the air like a knife, making everyone uncomfortable. She was especially hard on the younger teachers, like Professor Flitwick and Hagrid, constantly questioning their methods and dropping hints that their positions might not be as secure as they thought.
But his favorite moment so far had been when Umbridge entered Snape's Potions class for one of her "inspections." Snape had been in the middle of a particularly complex explanation about the properties of moonstone and its importance in restorative draughts when the door to the dungeon creaked open. The room fell silent as Umbridge entered, her heels clicking sharply on the cold stone floor.
The look on Snape's face had been absolutely priceless. His usually expressionless mask had faltered just for a moment, revealing an emotion Harry could only describe as deep irritation. Umbridge, with her pink cardigan and overly bright smile, looked so out of place in the dark, damp dungeon that Harry had to stop himself from laughing out loud.
'He can be childish at his age, so I can be too,' Harry thought, thoroughly enjoying the way Snape's upper lip twitched as Umbridge began her inspection.
She circled the classroom like a predator, her eyes glancing over the bubbling cauldrons and the notes on the students' desks. Then, as if she hadn't already made her disruptive presence known, she cleared her throat, that signature little cough that Harry had come to loathe.
"Professor Snape," she began in her syrupy sweet voice, "do you feel your methods align with the Ministry's guidelines for educational standards?"
Harry watched, fascinated, as Snape's hands clenched the edges of his desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. His voice, though calm, was cold as he responded, "I follow the syllabus precisely, Madam High Inquisitor."
There was something about the way he said it—cold, formal, and dripping with disdain—that made Harry grin. It was rare to see Snape flustered, and he was obviously restraining himself from saying something far nastier.
"Yes, well," Umbridge continued, unphased by Snape's icy tone, "I've been informed that perhaps your teaching methods are... a touch outdated. The Ministry prefers a more... modern approach to potions education."
The entire class was on edge, watching this verbal duel unfold. Harry could see several students holding their breath, their eyes darting nervously between Snape and Umbridge. Even Malfoy, who usually basked in Snape's presence, looked uncomfortable.
Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously, his voice lowering even further. "I am sure the Ministry is very knowledgeable about the intricacies of potion-making, Madam. Perhaps you would care to demonstrate a more... modern approach for my students?"
There was a sharp intake of breath from the class. Even Harry was surprised by Snape's boldness. Umbridge's smile faltered for a split second before she regained her composure. "That won't be necessary, Professor Snape," she replied, her voice a little less syrupy than before. "I trust you will make the necessary adjustments to your curriculum."
With that, she jotted down some notes on her clipboard, turned on her heel, and left the room, her heels clicking obnoxiously loud in the tense silence that followed. Snape's eyes followed her until the door closed, and once she was gone, his face twisted into an expression of pure loathing.
There was a moment of silence before Snape turned back to the class, his voice as sharp as ever. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, moonstone."
Harry couldn't stop the smirk from spreading across his face. Snape had won that little exchange, at least in his own way, and Harry savored the fact that for once, Snape had been the one on the defensive.
Later, when Harry thought back on the scene, he realized that Umbridge's presence wasn't just annoying—it was dangerous. She was slowly taking over every aspect of life at Hogwarts, and with her new position of power, it wouldn't be long before she started implementing harsher policies. But for now, Harry allowed himself to enjoy the small victory of watching Snape squirm, knowing full well that Umbridge's reign of terror was far from over.
By the end of November, Harry found himself sitting in the library with Daphne, finishing up another study session. The atmosphere was quiet, with only the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional cough from a nearby student breaking the silence. The two of them had fallen into a comfortable rhythm over the past few weeks, meeting regularly for study sessions. It was one of the few places where Harry could focus without the looming pressure of Umbridge's presence or the chaos of Granger's large group.
As they began packing up their books, Daphne handed him a small piece of parchment, sliding it across the table toward him without much fanfare.
"What's this about?" Harry asked, unfolding the note. He squinted at the elegantly written words, his curiosity growing.
"Read it and join. I'm sure it'll help somewhat," Daphne said, her tone neutral, though there was a hint of something hidden behind her calm expression.
Harry looked down at the note, his eyes scanning the text. As he read, his frown deepened. 'Inquisitorial Squad Invitation'. His mind raced. It was an invitation to join Umbridge's newly formed Inquisitorial Squad, a group handpicked by the hated High Inquisitor herself to monitor the students and report any misconduct. So far there had been only rumors but it seems it was real.
Harry's stomach churned. "Inquisitorial Squad?" he repeated, feeling the unease settle into the pit of his stomach. He raised his eyes to Daphne, unsure how to feel. "What's this about?"
Daphne, looking perfectly unbothered, shrugged slightly as she slung her bag over her shoulder. "Just join the meeting, okay? It'll be clear then," she said, her tone slightly more insistent but still calm, as though this was just another study session and not an invitation into the very heart of Umbridge's control.
Harry narrowed his eyes, uncertain. He trusted her to an extent, more so than most of the occupants in Hogwarts, but the idea of joining anything led by Umbridge made him uncomfortable. Still, Daphne was involved, and she wouldn't lead him into trouble. At least, he hoped not.
"I don't get it. Why would you be involved with this?" Harry asked, his voice quieter but sharper now, trying to piece it together.
Daphne let out a soft sigh, finally showing a trace of exasperation. "Just trust me, Potter. I'm not trying to get you in trouble. Join the meeting. You'll see why. It's... more complicated than it looks." She glanced away for a moment, then back at him, her eyes betraying a flash of something—maybe frustration, maybe impatience.
With a sigh, Harry pocketed the invitation. He didn't like it, not one bit, but Daphne had been right about things before, and despite everything, he had come to respect her. "I'll think about it," he finally said, though his voice lacked conviction.
As they left the library, the chilly air of the castle corridors met them. The halls were quieter than usual, most students tucked away in their common rooms or preparing for the winter break. But Harry's mind wasn't on the upcoming holiday. His thoughts swirled around the Inquisitorial Squad, trying to make sense of it. 'Is this just another way for Umbridge to tighten her grip on Hogwarts? And why would Greengrass be involved in something like this? And How did My name come to that list ?'
He felt uneasy. Joining a group created by Umbridge was the last thing he wanted to do. She was becoming more of a menace by the day, and the thought of actively supporting her agenda made his skin crawl. But something in Greengrass's demeanor kept nagging at him. She wasn't the type to go along with Umbridge's plans without good reason, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye.
As they walked back through the corridors, Harry glanced over at Daphne, her face composed, her steps measured. She always had an air of mystery about her, but this felt different.
"You sure about this?" Harry asked, his voice low. He wasn't asking just about the invitation anymore—he was asking about her, about her role in whatever this was.
Daphne gave him a sidelong glance, her lips quirking into a small, cryptic smile. "You'll see, Potter. Just keep your eyes open." Her response, like always, gave away little. It was frustrating, but Harry had learned by now that pushing Daphne too hard wouldn't get him the answers he wanted.
So, this was for the seventh chapter.
I appreciate any feedback and constructive criticism you can offer. Thank you for taking the time to read my story!
