Needless to say Julius' mother was livid when she hears the news of the Quidditch World Cup. Julius and Sirius hear the woman rehearsing her howler for three hours before sending it off to Malfoy Manor. When she emerges from her room, more than a few hairs out of place and face flushed, neither of them point it out.
"That was therapeutic." Galatea sighs, sipping on a cup of warm honeyed tea with lemon Kreacher had prepared.
"Had a lot to get out?" Sirius asks, looking up from the copy of the Daily Prophet that recounted the events of that night.
"Decades worth."
Sighing in a way that made it clear there was still gas in the tank, Galatea shakes her head. "To think they thought that would drag my son along. Right bastards, the lot of them."
"And they were within spitting distance of Harry." Sirius joins, the edges of the paper crinkling in his fist. "Fudge has got to be the biggest fool this side of the sun."
Next to each other Galatea and Sirius clink their mugs together in a bittersweet solidarity.
"Anjali informs me that Alastair Moody is to be the defense teacher this year." Galatea reveals like its good news.
Sirius lets out a dark laugh. "The Living Nightmare himself. Dumbledore must either really love or hate you students."
"Is he that bad?" Julius asks, an unease creeping into his shoulders.
"Worse than you can imagine." Sirius teases, flinching when Galatea's foot makes contact with his knee under the table. "He's batty, but he knows how to get the job done. You'll be fine. More importantly you'll be safe."
"The only thing Mad-Eye hates more than uppity brats are dark wizards." The man reassures. "No offense, but I don't think you're either of those."
Julius tries to smile back at his uncle's joke, but his track record thus far wasn't doing much for his confidence.
Before the war is declared a war and all the world knows is that something was on the horizon like a pot about to boil over, the Carrows threw a Hallow's Eve Masquerade.
It's grand and decadent, witches and wizards of the right standing gathering for a night of splendor and talking about how great it was to be pure blooded and magical. Unfortunately for Galatea her father was adamant that this was an event she and her brother could not miss. One foot in the grave and he was still determined to keep the other lodged in her business.
Galatea hides her displeasure behind champagne flutes and an appropriate silver mask of crocheted lace butterfly wings that slowly flapped and fluttered with the music. Reluctance was no reason to not be the best dressed in the room. If her father wanted them to show off then show off she would on his money. of course.
Her dress was one of long silvery satin that choked her neck but left her back and shoulders exposed. A flowering branch embroidered along her waist, accentuating her curves with more enchanted forms of butterflies flitting from place to place along the fabric with each move she makes.
From the sidelines of the ballroom Galatea watches her brother and Narcissa waltz like the disgusting freshly married couple they are. Holding each other close whispering secret nothings into each other's ear and laughing at what was said. Lucius was dressed smartly in spiffy black robes with emerald accents that matched Narcissa in her dazzling gown that made it no secret who the belle of the ball really was.
No small part of Galatea longed for her own gorgeous partner, sighing behind another sip of bubbly. Whether it was for Anjali to be with her so the two of them could be beautiful and perfect together or a sympathetic ear to whisper in about all the fanatic idiots around her, Galatea swung from either reason moment to moment.
Galatea shivers as she feels a cool shadow on her back, to her side a cloaked stranger with a bone white opera mask stands, having made hardly a noise in his approach. Silently they watch the dance come to an end.
"It's an inherent formality for the man to introduce himself, Ser Phantom." Galatea advises looking at the figure from the corner of her eyes.
The corners of a thin lipped peeks past the mask and scarlet red eyes curve upwards in an attempt at a smile. "Lady Malfoy." The man greets with a polite nod.
His hand grasps her wrist, bringing the back of her hand to brush her knuckles with his lips.
"I've heard much about you from your brother. Although he's neglected to mention your beauty."
It's shallow flattery, Galatea could see through it like glass, but it was well practiced. His tone and mannerism all of it carefully placed to not bring attention to the man behind the curtain. As they said it took one to know one.
"Lord Voldemort." She identifies, playing into his hand willingly, smiling with a vapid air. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. I've been waiting to put a face to the man who's gotten my family in such a fervor."
"What can I say?" The man chuckles dryly. "I can be very persuasive."
For a moment the music pauses and the floor clears for the next piece. One gloved hand waves to it as the other is forwardly placed on her waist.
"May I have this dance?"
'No, you old papery wisp of a codgy snake carcass.' She longs to say.
"It would be my honor." Galatea curtsies gracefully, taking his offered hand and allowing him to guide her to the center.
He proves himself a capable dance partner, taking the lead through steps that Galatea had ingrained into her since the age of seven. She manages to avoid his gaze for the most part, her eyes settling into the middle distance as she counts the beats in her head.
She knew this game as well. Scarlet eyes staring at her through his mask, attempting to establish an emotional connection, a 'spark' so to speak that would endear him to her.
"You say I have your family in a frenzy." He strikes up their conversation, pulling her in close after a spin. Chest to chest like this it only made it more obvious, the unnatural chill of his body that persevered despite being in layers of robes and moving as much as Galatea. Like a walking corpse, she notes with withering disgust. "I take it you are of a differing opinion?"
She smiles, meeting his gaze with a bat of her long lashes. "Of what? Pure-blood superiority? Muggle encroachment into our world as some forget the old ways? The threat of losing our way of life as they attempt to steal power from us?"
Voldemort's gaze changes, just slightly. The opera mask stays in place but the inviting smile doesn't, dripping like melting ice at her words as he starts to really see her. Maybe there had been too much bite in her tone as she repeated many of the things Lucius had ranted to her about before. She had probably just thrown the wizard's own words in his face.
"Of course I'm furious." She falsely placates. "How dare they think themselves equal to the likes of us? It's laughable"
"You're well attuned." He compliments, eyes watching her as closely as she watches him.
"Did my dear brother forget to tell you that as well?"
The dance comes to a gradual end, the last cord slowing their feet to a stop. Voldemort pulls his hands away, letting her slip from his grip as she curtsies once more.
"My lord." She bids goodbye, receiving a slight incline of his head before he walks away, heading to the next wallflower at the edges of the ballroom.
Galatea measures her steps to a floating tray of champagne, waiting for the flute to lay on her lips before she lets herself grimace. She really hated parties.
"Sister." She hears Lucius call as he approached. On his arm is a watchful Narcissa staring at her sister Bellatrix as she is swept into a dance with the up and coming Dark Lord.
"I see you've met Lord Voldemort."
"Yes." Galatea sighs, following her sister-in-law's gaze. "He's very interesting. I can see why you like him, Lucius."
She drains the rest of her drink in one long weary sip.
Julius wanted it noted for the record that he was right to trust his uneasy gut. He would've written back home to rub it in his uncle's face but his mother raised him better than that.
It's a new record of two and a half days of normal schooling when Julius is sitting in Defense Class and Professor Moody turns to him, asking to explain the three unforgivable curses. His glass eye rotates in its socket a good two times before it trains to give him a solid once over.
"The Imperius Curse." Julius flounders for the answer, feeling unprepared for the sudden spotlight.
Vague memories of a ministry courtroom, his mother speaking alone in the center and Aunt Anjali's hand tightly gripping his shoulder, come to mind.
Professor Moody nods approvingly. His chuckle sounds more like a rough scoff as he paces back to the front of the room.
"Very good, Mister Black. I have no doubt that your family is well versed in the…effects of this spell."
Julius exchanges glances with Marigold and Cassius. He thinks he's meant to bristle at the jab. Instead he purses his lips and rubs the back of his neck nervously as he continues to stand.
"It's infamous for a reason." He tries. "The person who casts it aims to control another person in mind and body."
"Indeed." The professor endorses, stubbornly refusing to dismiss him. Julius tries to sit down anyway but Moody drawing his wand stops him. A collective gasp rings in the classroom as the man carefully regarded it in his hand. "Many Death Eaters, servants of You-Know-Who, after the war avoided life long sentences to Azkaban, claiming to be under this curse."
Julius feels a cautious hand from Cassius squeeze his wrist, every student in the room holding their breath in anticipation for what Mad-Eye Moody would do.
He doesn't see any light, or sparks hit his chest when the wand moves. Just a foggy warmth falling over him like a blanket. Everything Julius does feels distant, like his whole body was in an echo chamber, he only realizes what he's doing after it's overlapped five times in his head. The warmth was nice, enticing even. Easy to fall into and forget what it was he wanted to fight against. Through the layers of it however Julius couldn't help but be aware of the subdued taste of bile in the back of his throat.
It wasn't right that he felt comfortable and relaxed, especially not right now, in this moment. For once his mind felt quiet and it was the most alien and wrong feeling in the world.
"Julius!" A voice that sounds like his mother's voice calls his name, snapping him out of his daze.
He gasps as he comes to his senses, standing on top of his desk and looking at Moody, who stares back with twisted appraisal. Julius hears his friends calling his name, Marigold and Cassius' arms coming up to help him down.
Back on stable ground Julius processes the taste of copper on the inside of his lip. He raises his hand to his mouth to investigate, the tip of his finger coming away red. A gash in the shape of his teeth sluggishly bleed from a hard bite.
"Who the hell do you think you are-" Cassius protectively turns towards their teacher, hands pushing up the sleeves of his uniform as he trudges his way forward to the man. Julius attempts to grab his friend's broad shoulder to stop him but Moody is quicker at raising his wand.
"Imperio."
Cassius' stance grows stiff, stilling in his tracks as Julius watches the curse take over. The class around them stifles laughter as Cassius dips into a perfect handstand. Walking on his hands like he was a born gymnast and not the bull in a china shop he usually was. Julius feels Marigold's hand fist around his sleeve showing the same apprehension he was feeling. A much more familiar emotion.
"That's enough." Julius steps up, pulling on the mask that was most like Galatea Black. His stomach lurched with nervousness but he refused to back away lest his legs buckle beneath him. "Let him go."
A pair of mismatched colored eyes stare into him, and Julius swears he sees a sneer pass over Moody's face like a mirage before it's gone. Still balanced on his hands Cassius lets out a shout of surprise, quickly losing his form and tumbling into Ravenclaw's Allana Medula's desk as the curse is dismissed.
Together Julius and Marigold quickly go to their fallen friend and help him up. Steadying him with one of them on either arm.
"What just happened?" Cassius tries to ask but Marigold hushes him.
"Turney." Moody commands in a clear voice. "Take Misters Black and Warrington to the infirmary would you? Wouldn't want them getting too hurt in the first week."
Marigold hesitatingly looks up to him, dark ochre brown eyes filled with worry. Julius leans his head to the exit, pushing both her and Cassius in front of him as he takes up the tail end of their trio.
Julius only looks back when the doors behind them start to close, making out an electric blue eye staring straight at him before it's out of sight completely.
When Regulus comes to their biweekly picnic after his sixteenth birthday he is wearing a long sleeved button up despite it being the middle of summer. At the very least he would've usually rolled the sleeves above his forearms, but across from her he sat fully cuffed, tugging at his collar in hopes of lessening his heat.
Galatea notices the way his hand subconsciously scratches at his upturned wrist and she has seen her brother do the same action enough to be suspicious.
"Did you receive my gift, dear fiancé?" Galatea asks to break the silence.
"Hmm? Oh! Yes. It was very thoughtful. The uh…" Regulus scrambles to remember probably one of the many presents he had gotten over the weekend from friends and family alike.
"'Anti-Gravity pen." She gently reminds him.
"Yes. Yes! The pen, it's brilliant. Did you know it can actually write underwater?"
"Yes. I bought one for myself because it fascinated me as well."
"Much better than a quill, in my opinion. Really what will muggles come up with next?" Regulus chuckled good naturedly before realizing his words. "Maybe don't tell mother about that last part."
Galatea smiles kindly. "As I've said before, Regulus, any conversation we have here stays here."
"Right. Right…" Regulus nods almost like he was trying to convince himself. The silence descends again, the young boy staring down at his fidgeting hands in deep thought.
Galatea lets him ponder and take his time coming to a hesitant conclusion.
"Forgive me if this sounds rude but, you don't really hate muggles, do you?" He eventually leaned forward and quietly asked like it was taboo.
Galatea is careful to keep her teacup hand steady, taking a deliberate sip before setting it back down on the saucer. "I think they are amusing." She treads carefully in front of her fiancé. "Whether I particularly hate or like them has nothing to do with it."
Clearly unsatisfied with her roundabout answer, Regulus leans forward again. He was persistent like his brother in that way.
"Okay, but do you hate them?"
Grey blue eyes stare intently, like they're trying to see the world through her and it makes Galatea feel put on the spot.
"No." Galatea sighs in a resigned way. "I don't hate them. Do you think differently of me?"
Regulus' gaze lowers to his lap as he shakes his head. His mouth purses with an unsaid thought, trepidation keeping it in but burning curiosity making it impossible for him to stay silent.
Just out of sight, Galatea sees his left arm move to clutch at his upturned wrist under the table.
"Would you think differently of me if I…didn't hate them too?"
"Of course not."
Julius eventually lets Harry talk to him in the library.
It was a long time coming and honestly Julius was surprised the boy had the restraint to not corner him on the Hogwarts Express.
He's somewhere between the Hematology and Herbology sections when he hears a hissed. "Julius!"
When he turns he's unsurprised to see Harry Potter standing before him folding up a blank piece of parchment and stuffing it in his pocket. Curious green eyes stare at him intently, like they were trying to project his question directly into Julius' head.
Unfortunately it wasn't that easy, leaving a Slytherin Prefect having a silent stare down with Harry Potter in the middle of the library. One might think Julius a petty bully were they to walk past.
"Okay, okay. Follow me." Julius gives in.
He feels like a mother duck, the fourth year trailing behind him as he walks to the deepest, dustiest parts of the library, just outside the forbidden section. Making sure Madam Pince was safely out of sight he casts a sound nullifying spell around them for extra security.
Julius sinks into a worn out armchair that smelled like mothballs and aging paper, waving to his underclassman to proceed.
"How's Sirius?" Harry wastes no time jumping in. "Is he adjusting well? Is he healthy? Eating enough food?"
"He's fine. Kind of, we're working on it. His coat when he's a dog is shinier, so yes? And yeah he'd eat a whole cow if Kreacher cooked it."
Harry sighs, shoulders drooping with relief at Julius' words, some color returning to his cheeks.
"Good. Thank you."
Julius waves it away, feeling awkward at the tame direction this conversation was going.
"Yeah. No problem."
They stand in a painfully awkward silence, each avoiding eye contact and wondering if it was the right time to leave.
Julius just barely catches himself from bidding goodbye when Harry turns to him again, hands fidgeting nervously in front of him.
"Does…does he mention me at all-?"
"Yes." Julius immediately answers before Harry could finish the ridiculous thought. "All the time. He won't shut up about you."
Harry visibly brightens, posture straightening and eyes lighting up with a happy excitement. "Really?"
The older boy nods, hiding a good natured smile with a played up annoyance. "It's always Harry this, my godson that, Harry, Harry , Harry. Trust me, if he could he'd have you move in right now."
"I'd live with you guys?"
Julius mouth opens to reply, but feels a jerking pull stop his words on his tongue.
"I mean- well uhh…." He stammers, suddenly aware of the massive foot in his mouth.
"It's just that the ideal is that Sirius gets proven innocent, right? And if that happens he can choose to move out and then you get to live with him. And if he chooses not to leave- well technically the house will go to me, my mom is in charge of it now of course, but neither of us would kick you out if you chose to- obviously I…"
Harry looks at him with a less than credulous expression that made it clear Julius was rambling.
"Yes?" He lands on like a rolled ankle. "Only if that's what you want though."
They already had notorious (wrongly) convicted criminal Sirius Black under their roof, what was the boy savior of the wizarding world? Merlin, he's going to have to get his mother the birthday gift of the century.
Green eyes level him with a long, long look. Each second the silence stretched the more sweat gathered on Julius' neck.
"That was painful to watch." Harry unhelpfully points out.
Julius clicks his tongue in embarrassed annoyance, moving his hand in a swat that's a mile off and has no real heat behind it. He hides his face behind his other hand, palm pressed to his mouth so the definitely not a pout wouldn't show.
"Does Draco visit often?" Harry asks earnestly after taking a moment to think.
"Yes." Julius seizes the chance to shut this nightmare of a talk down.
The boy's face scrunches with displeasure, weighing the pros and cons of being plagued by his mortal nemesis and vice versa. "I'm okay." He decides.
Julius sends a silent prayer heavenward before standing and dispelling the silencing spell.
"Then it's a bridge we'll cross another day." Julius assures, hand reflexively giving a ruffle to the younger boy's messy black hair as he walks away. His steps gain speed as he realizes how embarrassing that action must have been to do to a virtual stranger.
Before he can get too far Harry calls after him. "I wouldn't mind though."
Julius turns back to look at him, their roles now reversed as Harry stumbled to find his words.
"If it wasn't for uh- Malfoy that is, I don't think it would be so bad. You guys, Sirius and me…living together. There are worse cousins someone could live with. Believe me."
Julius waits a couple seconds, giving the kid a taste of his own medicine before letting a smile lift the corners of his lips. "That was painful, Potter." He jabs, chuckling at the stink eye he receives as he leaves.
In Galatea's twentieth year, Calliope Malfoy quietly passes away.
A waning immune system and increasingly longer periods of being bedridden waste her away until she is but a husk of what Galatea knew her mother to be.
For weeks Galatea had sat vigil by her side, wiping sweat from her brow, feeding her lukewarm soup spoonful by spoonful, making sure she didn't get bedsores by helping to stretch her limbs.
If she was feeling well, she and Calliope would talk quietly about whatever came to their mind. About Galatea's plans to travel the world, where she would go, what she would see, tip toeing around the fact that it would only happen after Calliope was gone from the world.
A wrinkled liver spotted hand grips Galatea's gently. The same warm smile on the beautiful woman's face that Galatea hated because it was one last thing she'd be losing.
"You're older you know." Calliope sighs, like it was one last weight off her chest. "You were born before Lucius."
Galatea stares at her mother, trying her best to pretend that her world view hadn't just shifted slightly to the right. Would her life have been so different?
Being raised as the head of the family, first born, name bearer, etc.
She'd still be engaged, expected to produce an heir, shackled to the ground while she watched her brother's back as he walked, ran, soared.
Galatea thinks of Walburga, Matriarch of the Ancient and Noble of Black, as intimidating and steadfast as her title would suggest. Her future mother-in-law ruled her family with an iron fist and squeezing the life out of them, according to Sirius.
No. It probably wouldn't have changed a thing.
"Do you know how many arguments against Lucius I could've won?" Galatea chides, giving her mother's hand a forgiving squeeze.
The older woman chuckles, a wheezing and croaking sound. "Countless, I'm sure."
Two days later Galatea raises her head when the sun shines through the gap in the curtain, and Calliope doesn't.
She sits there, breath shuddering with a cold hand pressed to her lips as she mourned. Her chest had never felt more hollow and the world so small as she cried like a lost child.
When her tears dry and she manages to draw more than one steady breath she sends word to Lucius at the Ministry.
The two of them are twenty-four when Abraxas Malfoy dies slowly and painfully to Dragon Pox. No one was allowed with him when he passes, hardly a last word left behind. Everything but the room he was in is incinerated to prevent the spread to the rest of the manor.
She smiles at the man's funeral more than she frowns, but only because his old colleagues wouldn't stop approaching her and Lucius to express their condolences. By the time it's just the two of them Galatea's cheeks hurt. She rubs away the ache in them as she looks over to Lucius trying to relax his jaw.
Later they are in the room Galatea could count on her fingers how many times she'd been inside, Abraxas' study. Ornate mahogany desk on one side, Lucius looking too small even now sitting in that man's chair.
Galatea stands by the fireplace, in both of their hands generous pours of vintage fire whiskey from a high shelf they could now reach, chilled in crystal glasses.
She hisses at the burn down her throat, smoke practically escaping her lips when she finishes her sip. No wonder the old bastard died if this is what he thought was enjoyable and a luxury.
Galatea doesn't know what she had been expecting to feel when the man died. Vindictive glee? Lighter shoulders? She gets nothing but a cold gust of wind at her back, hair raising on her neck as the presence that had been hovering over her shoulder all her life is suddenly gone.
"What do we do now, Lucy?" She asks her brother who looks just as listless. No hand on the shoulders guiding them, no strong arm like steel pushing them to the next mountain top to conquer. For the first time in a long time it just felt like the two of them against the world.
Lucius sits with his glass pressed to his forehead, looking off into the distance in deep thought.
"Dearest sister…I must confess I am better at conquering the world than you are." He stumbles over his words, out of practice.
A rye chuckle escapes Galatea, the clumsy nudge to her heart doing its job as she looks back to her twin. "Dearest brother, you are no better than I than a pig is at flying."
When the Tri-Wizard tournament is announced Julius thinks that the world must be run by a cruel god that never wanted him to know peace, because why for the love of Merlin's nose hair does Viktor Krum walk through the Great Hall doors with the students of Durmstrang?
Julius thinks he's having an out of body episode, not even hearing Dumbledore's words of blah blah blah honor, something, something, eternal glory. All that was going through his head was Viktor Krum was maybe three seats away and Draco was insisting on being the one to sit next to him.
He loved his cousin dearly, but he'd die before he'd let the younger boy do that.
Cassius takes one good look at Julius wrestling a struggling Draco into his proper seat, eyes drifting over to where Krum sat, all broad shoulders and stern angular features, and laughs, damn near cackling, as he slaps a red faced Julius on the back. Even Julius' harsh kick to the shin doesn't do much to deter his friend from his giggles as they eat dinner with the foreign students.
The next day Cassius comes up to him with two scraps of paper held up in his hand, looking at him with bouncing brows looking like a fool.
"Never in a million bloody years, Warrington." Julius tells him clearly and concisely.
"C'mon Julesiiiieeeee!" Cassius presses, arm draping over his shoulders. "Think about it. If you get chosen you can get closer to, ahem, Iktor-Vay. Or if I get chosen I can put in a good word for you."
Cassius lets out a grunt at the elbow Julius digs into his friend's side, trying to get him to shut up.
"I'll hex you. I'll do it. I swear."
Cassius is unfazed, wheezing as he jogs to catch up to Julius and Marigold on their way to lunch. "Eternal Glory, Jules! A cash prize! Victory and Honor!"
"What makes you so sure Krum is going to be the Durmstrang champion anyway?"
Cassius rolls his eyes, staring at him like Julius was being the idiot. "Who else but the international quidditch star? Gee I wonder."
Julius clicks his tongue, refusing to admit his friend had a point.
"Enter with Mari if you're too chicken to do it by yourself." He deflects.
"Umm No. I also refuse." Marigold pipes up, shaking her head of dark braided hair. "I'm not risking that mess."
Julius waves to his beautifully rational friend. "Thank you. I've had enough excitement at this school to last a lifetime. The last thing I need is a tournament that, mind you, people have died in."
Cassius rolls his eyes, giving up with a huff. "Fine. You two are boring."
"And proud." Julius nods.
The three of them enter the Great Hall, a milling audience watching anyone that approached the Goblet of Fire with curious eyes.
Cassius breaks away from their group, but not before Julius coughs and holds out his hand. Hazel eyes look at him with confusion before they roll again.
"Don't trust me, Julesie?" He teases, dropping the slip of paper with Julius's name messily scribbled on it into the other boy's waiting hand.
"Not as far as I can throw you."
Cassius blows a raspberry over his shoulder before confidently walking up to the cup. The audience starts to whisper at his approach, eyes all staring at the Slytherin as he raises his arm to the lip of the goblet and drops his name in. The hall fills with bright blue light as the flame swallows the offering.
Despite their differences Julius and Marigold applaud loud enough to drown out the boos and jeers of the other houses that attempt to put their friend down. Cassius spins on his heel, easily ignoring the negativity thrown at him as he returns to their side.
"A Slytherin champion?" Someone scoffs, behind the safety of a chittering crowd.
"That'd be a disaster." Another one laughs.
It's nothing the three of them hadn't heard before. Seven years of experience having given them skin as thick as brick.
"You sure you don't want to enter." Cassius drawls, giving a sidelong glance to the students that wouldn't dare to own up to their words. "Would really piss off those twats."
"And steal your chance at glory?" Julius claps his friend on the back, herding him to their usual spot at the table. "I wouldn't dream of it."
That night Julius sits with rapt attention, Cassius gripping his and Marigold's hand in a tight grip as they leaned forward like everyone else to hear the name of the chosen champions. Their predictions were correct, Viktor Krum stands to excited applause as his name was spit out on a smoldering scrap of paper.
The next, Fleur Delacour of Beauxbaton. Graceful and confident as she walked to where Viktor had been directed.
The whole school holds its breath as they wait for the third and final. The Goblet sparks, flames raising like it had twice before, shooting out the Hogwarts Champion.
Dumbledore grasps it in his hand, as he read what was scrawled a pin drop would echo off the walls. Wrinkled and weathered eyes look up to the awaiting crowd and for a sinking bone chilling reason they glance over to Slytherin. Very specifically they look to,
"Julius Black!" Dumbledore declares.
The Hall is silent like a calm before the thunderous storm. The Slytherin table shakes with pounding fists and feet as they cheer.
Julius' mouth is suddenly bone dry as he looks at his friends in wide eyed bewilderment. Cassius hand slips from his, matching looks of confused concern on his and Marigold's faces.
Cassius nods to where he should walk, mouthing a silent 'go'. Julius turns catching Draco's elatedly cheering face as he does so. He tries for a reassuring expression but he can't find it in him to be anything more than shell shocked.
As he walks past the teachers Dumbledore shakes his hand, Snape gives an approving nod and Moody is the last one he sees, cold electric blue eye staring straight through him.
He thinks he's about to puke up his dinner, when he gets to the bottom of the stairs, steadying himself by a decorative vase. Fleur is nice enough to introduce herself first, leaning toward him curiously.
"Are you alright?" She asks in a concerned tone, a french accent coloring her words.
"Yeah, just…just processing it all." He attempts to pass off.
Fleur smiles comfortingly, a light chuckle in her voice as she says, "I know what you mean, my hands won't stop shaking."
Julius wants to tell her no, this was different. It wasn't right that he was here, he never put his name in the-
At the top of the stairs one more pair of hesitant footsteps shuffle against the marble. The three of them look up to see who has come to join them and Julius is only half surprised to see Harry with a matching expression of lost confusion.
"Harry." Julius greets, not liking this. Not liking it one bit.
"Julius." Harry echoes back in the same hollow tone.
Julius hated this school.
Author's Note
Oahhhh I hope this chapter is coherent you guys
Peace and Love