CHAPTER 24
02 December 1991 - Great Hall - 7:56AM
Harry slowly ate his oatmeal while reviewing his Transfiguration homework notes, once again grateful for Hermione's additional tutelage during their study group. Her simple yet descriptive explanation of envisioning the object undergoing the physical changes whilst casting had made the spell significantly easier for himself and all other members of the group, including the new additions of Blaise and Theo. Lightly chuckling, Harry recalled Blaise's overt friendliness with all the female members, especially Hermione. The poor girl had been reduced to a blushing stutter on a few occasions, a fact which amused Harry to no end. Cormac, just as shameless in his flirting with the young witch, had taken to shamelessly glaring at Blaise whenever the two were within mutual vicinity. Some clever seating maneuvering on Padma, Lavender, and Neville's collective behalf had staved a would-be Gryffindor vs. Slytherin showdown.
Pausing to take a sip of orange juice, Harry further ruminated on his budding friendship with Zabini. Initially, the young Italian had been a bit cagey around Harry after the latter had guessed correctly about his interest in Muggle culture, but soon, he made something of a game of letting Harry guess just how integrated into Muggle society he actually was. The two, along with Hermione, Justin, and Anthony routinely dropped references to Press Gang, Blackadder, The Simpsons, He-Man, She-Ra, and their collective favorite - Doctor Who - all bemoaning its cancellation. The other purebloods in attendance had been incredibly confused but very much fascinated at the varying array of children's entertainment options in the Muggle world, especially since those options were very limited within wizarding society. Jokingly, Hermione had offered them a chance to see these programs if they were able to acquire a functioning television, and much to her dismay, they'd all excitedly agreed.
Taking a few more bites of his oatmeal, Harry sighed and barely resisted the urge to rub his temples, thinking over the considerably less pleasant aspects of his life. In spite of their initial excitement and pride over receiving what they'd call his 'questing letter', his mum and mentors had not offered any additional help in answering exactly who the Prince of Slytherin was. Frustratingly, all three had simply told him to use his budding Slytherin cunning and intellect to discover whom and/or what the Prince was. That if he truly desired the knowledge, he'd find the means to successfully acquire the information he sought. Even worse, none of the snakes in the Hogwarts network would answer questions about the Prince.
Granted, they knew exactly who the Prince was, but none shared any specifics. They had stringently warned him to ask neither students nor faculty about the Prince, an endeavor which would either be a waste of time (to those whom were ignorant) or a possible assassination (to those whom were very well aware). The bluntness with which some of the snakes (especially Solon, Kyna, and Matilda) talked about the danger inherent in the information was startling. The only practical piece of advice Harry received was from Egbert, who, after days of buttering up with (relatively harmless) gossip about some of the other students, finally advised Harry to seek "the Sentinel" who could be found "past the nests where the lesser powers dwelt". Harry, naturally, hadn't a clue as to what the serpent referred. Once more, whilst his mother and mentors had been proud of his discovery of the Sentinel's existence, not a single one offered him a clue as to whom and where said Sentinel could be found. They'd repeated that if he truly desired the knowledge, he'd find the necessary means to acquire it.
Sighing, Harry put his notes away and reached for some mini croissants, generously buttering them while he observed the Hall at large. Brother Dearest and Lackey Weasley were busy chatting amongst themselves, no doubt about the Third Corridor and the Philosopher's Stone. Thankfully, Matilda had reported that neither had made an effort to breach the entrance to "protect" the Stone from Quirrell, Snape, and Professor Evans! It seemed in spite of Hermione's logical insistence that Quirrell was the cause of Jim's would-be death by broom splatter, the two idiots had convinced themselves that all three were in cahoots to steal the Stone for nefarious purposes, especially since Professors Evans and Snape were 'slimy snakes'. That Lily had been the one to save his sorry life was a fact Brother Dearest stupidly refused to believe, referencing her act as a mere ruse. Harry had never wanted to throttle the boy more than he did in those moments for his absolute idiocy. The Younger Potter sincerely hoped that Brother Dearest and his little weasel would pull another ridiculous stunt in Snape's class, getting enough detentions to keep them out of trouble for the remainder of the school year.
Looking at the entrance, Harry smiled at seeing Blaise and Theo, making room for both to sit at his left and right respectively. Settling in, the three began amicably chatting about their plans for the day. To Harry's delight, Theo would be spending time with Neville in the Greenhouses, getting more tutoring in Herbology. Neville had made a point of taking Nott under his wing and giving the boy encouragement, especially when Harry wasn't around to do so. As far as Neville was concerned, Theo, by showing him how to unlock his suppressed memories, had helped save his life just as much as Harry and Hermione, and he was determined to do what he could to repay the favor.
Conversation grinded to a halt when a sneering Draco and his minions sat directly across them. Resisting the urge to groan, Harry was decidedly not in the mood to deal with the arrogant blonde. It seemed their earlier confrontation in the Common Room had succeeded in only momentarily culling the Malfoy Heir. He was now back to being blatantly rude, making repeated disparaging comments about Harry's choice of company in the Study Group, and generally being exclusively unpleasant to Harry and his peers. Insults of 'mudbloods', 'dirty halfbloods', and 'blood-traitors' were back at an all-time high, openly insulting Hermione, Justin, Anthony, and even Neville to their faces.
He'd even taken to conspiring with the older Slytherin Purebloods - many of whom were surprisingly deferent to Draco in spite of his youth - to actively malign Harry, Theo, and Blaise, due to their continued consorting with "undesirables." Not for the first time, Harry cursed the influence of the Malfoy name and its ability to turn people into bullying toadies. Draco sneered once more, determined to get Harry's attention in what he deemed a subtle manner. Internally sighing, Harry acquiesced with no small amount of false politesse.
"Morning Malfoy, to what do we owe this most undeserved pleasure?"
"Potter," spat Draco, his eyes turning flinty. By his side, Harry felt Blaise twitch in quiet laughter while Theo lightly cleared his throat as the Malfoy Heir continued speaking. "I see that you've yet to surround yourself with the common rabble you so enjoy parading around with."
Harry rolled his eyes, inciting the young Malfoy's wrath. His minions cracked their knuckles threateningly, which caused Harry to roll his eyes once more.
"You think your continued associations with mudbloods and blood traitors are a joke?! You're a disgrace to Slytherin House Potter!" Draco's face had pinked in anger, and Harry (along with Blaise and Theo) felt themselves growing concerned at the blonde's overreaction. "You as well Theo," Malfoy smirked evilly before continuing. "To think: the son of Lord Tiberius Nott, pureblooded for generations, dependent on the tutelage of blood traitors, consorting with filthy little Mudbloods. I wonder what your father would say if he knew." He patronizingly shook his head while Theo stiffened. Harry felt his hackles rise, seething at Draco's temerity. He made to respond, but Theo beat him to it.
"Why don't you go tell him then, Draco? Running around, tattling on people like a spoiled child seems to be your forte." Harry glanced at Theo with a measure of pride, pleased to see Blaise mimic his movement. However, Draco was not to be deterred.
"All in due time Theo. Eventually, you" he paused to glare at the younger Nott "and you," he glared at Blaise, "and you," he glared fiercely "will ultimately come to learn and know your place in this House." The threat in his voice was very clear, and his blue-gray eyes glinted with promised malice. Harry stared at Draco speculatively, before slowly leaning forward, smiling unblinkingly with all of his teeth. The blonde's eyes briefly widened as his minions exchanged concerned glances.
"Malfoy, are you ... quite ... sure this is the route you want to take? Do you fully understand how much you're ... escalating things?" Harry's voice was a quiet hiss, and Draco fidgeted for a moment before steeling himself, leaning forward until he was almost nose-to-nose with his enemy.
"The route has already been taken, Potter. You've been given too much largesse to run amuck with all manner of riff-raff that plagues this school. You've disgraced this House, disgraced your superiors, and utterly disgraced yourself as a Slytherin. Granted you are begotten of inferior blood," Harry snarled at the insult "but I'd hoped that even the lowliest dog could be taught a new trick." Harry's eyes burned while his friends glared at Draco, disbelieving of the blonde's rather bold insults. "You've forgotten your place, and I'll be around to put you back to heel. Never forget Potter," he snarled, pointing a finger that Harry barely resisted in snapping off. "I gave you a chance to be better, to be worthy of this House. All you did was sully yourself with…weaknesses. And what better are weaknesses, than to be exploited to the greatest gain?" Draco sneered before rising, his minions following in tow. With a dramatic huff he moved further down the table to where a group of older Slytherins had gathered, who were smirking in seeming approval.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, Harry allowed himself to sink into a Phase One meditative Occludic state, lulling his pulsing fury to a quietly burning anger. Taking more deep breaths, he slipped into Phase Two, allowing his anger to further cool as the logical side of his mind reasserted control. This was a necessity, lest he did something…drastic to the blonde-haired bastard.
A few moments passed before Harry's expression became almost serene, before he picked up his abandoned croissant and resumed eating. Theo (internally shocked at the rapid change) quietly asked, "Harry, are you alright?"
Smiling at his friends, Harry replied, "I'm quite alright Theo, thank you for asking." Harry's placid expression seemed to concern the two boys all the more, with Theo growing slightly wide-eyed.
"What do you think Draco's deal is Harry? Do you believe him to be planning something?" Blaise asked, his expression somewhat thoughtful as he ate his greek yogurt.
"Oh, I am quite certain the little ferret is scheming, and I am certain that he is attempting something against Theo, Hermione, and potentially Neville, though exactly 'what' he wants to do, I am completely uncertain." Theo's eyes widened at the mention of his name while Blaise stared thoughtfully. "We will endeavor to keep a closer eye on each other, and ensure that neither we or our Gryffindor companions are caught unaware, especially Hermione." Harry's eyes hardened, though the rest of his expression remained unperturbed. "Draco's threats will not go unheeded. And what he believes to be my weaknesses will be turned to my greatest strengths, and I will unleash their full strength upon the little bastard's head. Draco Malfoy will rue the day he ever deigned to harm what's mine, of that I will make sure." Theo and Blaise shivered in spite of themselves at Harry's ominous words, wondering (not for the first time) if Draco had bitten off more than he could ever hope to chew.
Flemings Mayfair - Apartment 3 - 12:15PM
Tom quietly sipped his coffee - splash of cream and no sugar - while he nibbled on a chocolate-covered macaron, eagerly indulging his hidden sweet-tooth. Only those in his closest circle knew about his proclivities for sugar-laden sweets, often teasing him about his similarities to Albus Dumbledore. That comparison irritated him to no end. While the two now shared a somewhat… comfortably neutral relationship, any comparison to his formerly-loathed Transfigurations Professor still raised his hackles.
Reaching for a mini raspberry tart, Tom quietly took in the plush surroundings of his private apartment suite while waiting for his contact from the Crazy Unicorn Cabaret. The suite's common room was decorated in a tastefully modern 30s deco-style, emphasized by elegant shades of cream, navy, chestnut, and splashes of dewy green. A massive wood-accented crystal chandelier bathed the massive common room in a soft glow, offsetting the gray overcast seen through the massive floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the quaint Mayfair streets. Serpent-shaped sconces (identical to those in his office) lined the wall, interspersed with small gilded mirrors bearing serpentine motifs. Mab had ensured fresh cut flowers of pink carnations, honeysuckle, and red sorrel (all of Libra's favorites) were placed around the room in measured intervals, charmed to be everlasting and ever-fragrant. The dutiful elf also kept the apartment in spick-and-span and generally suited to Tom's needs, the various Muggle-repelling wards ensuring that none of the hotel's support staff would intrude.
Basking in the quiet, Tom sometimes still couldn't believe his immense fortune. The impoverished orphan boy he'd once been could have only dreamed of this reality. On some particularly bad days, he hadn't believed he'd even live long enough to see adulthood. He'd spent so many years languishing away in Wool's Orphanage, his world an endlessly depressing cycle of abuse, an empty stomach, and sheer misery, especially once his magical abilities had manifested. He'd been further maligned and isolated by the other orphans who'd feared the strange boy and his strange abilities and his strange aura. His first two years attending Hogwarts had done little to change his station, his hope at having his supernatural abilities affirmed and finding a way out of the Muggle hellhole brutally crushed at the discovery of pureblooded society and their rabid bigotry. Abraxas Malfoy, Boruslav Lestrange, Thaddeus Nott, and Cygnus Black had all seemingly conspired to make his life an absolute living hell, not refraining from using physical retaliation to keep him in his 'mudblood place'.
His third year had coincided with the start of the London Blitzkrieg, and in spite of his sanctuary within the confines of Hogwarts castle, he'd been terrified at the thought of the orphanage - the hellish place that was his only Muggle abode - would be taken from him too. His second semester had fared much better; he'd finally made worthwhile friends in the form of Nobby, Rubeus, and Myrtle Warren, though he flinched in spite of himself at the thought of the latter name. It'd been decades and though he knew he was forgiven (the girl's ghost had told him as much), he could never resist castigating himself for his role in her terribly unfortunate death.
The apartment door suddenly jerked open, interrupting Tom's roiling thoughts as he stood at attention. A tall and statuesque blond woman stood frozen in the doorway. She was literally frozen, as misty golden tethers kept her limbs locked in position, rendering her as still as a statue. Serpentine-shaped bits of magic slowly wrapped around her stiffened form, starting at her feet and slowly wrapping around her body. They all coalesced into a giant smoky green boomslang, hissing furiously when they reached her unmoving face. A beat passed as its hisses increased in volume and it leaned closer, seemingly ready to bite her. Another beat passed, before a forked tongue reached out and flicked at her face, releasing her from immobility before dissipating. Glaring at the smirking wizard she fully entered the room, with the door closing as the multitude of security and privacy wards reasserted themselves.
"Seriously Tom? A boomslang?" She asked when less than a foot from him, her tall form bringing her at eye-level with the snickering wizard.
"I deemed it rather fitting, no? My exemplar of charm and subtlety." He cheekily responded as the witch rolled amused blue eyes. "Though I must say, this current form is really not exemplary of any subtlety. Seriously, Claudia Schiffer? The muggles will recognize you!"
"Naturally, I wanted them to! It's not everyday a drop-dead gorgeous supermodel bombshell crosses their path, no?" She struck a rather seductive pose in her form-fitting muggle red dress, causing Tom to chuckle in spite of himself. He was pleased to see her bracelet cuff fitted on her wrist, the golden outline of the boomslang symbol glinting. Laughing, she gave him a firm hug, which Tom gladly returned. "It's good to see you again Cassie." 'Cassie' was the nickname for Cassiopeia Black, baby sister to Dorea Potter (née Black) and Arcturus Black, former Lord of the Black family. She'd served on Tom's Prince's Administration during her Hogwarts tenure, graduating a year before him in 1944. A Metamorph of prodigious natural ability, she'd gladly allied with Tom when she'd discovered the true power he held within the House, gladly utilizing her abilities to further ingratiate herself with him and gain his trust to be in his inner circle. The considerable amount of blackmail she'd helped gather on her more…unwilling peers and those outside the house had been used to cull many an enemy.
She'd spent the next three years traveling the world before settling in Paris upon her graduation, wanting to pursue Charms and Healing Masteries, and remain out of the British Ministry's purview to avoid Conscription. She'd fallen in love with muggleborn Laurent de Lapin, the many-times great grandson of French sorceress Lisette de Lapin. An accomplished auror with the French Ministry, Laurent was very well regarded among his peers and colleagues, and he'd won Cassie's heart over with his razor sharp wit and unyielding dedication to Cassie and her happiness.
Unfortunately, Arcturus had refused to grant his blessing when the Frenchman had boldly asked him for her hand in marriage. While he loved and doted on his baby sister, decades of tradition forbade him from approving. In retaliation pledged spinsterhood, claiming that she'd dedicate her life to being a Healer. Not wanting her to be destitute, Arcturus had bequeathed a sizable Gringotts account to her as a 'late graduation gift' for successfully completing her Charms and Healing Masteries, with the unspoken understanding that she would use the funds to support herself and Laurent. She'd taken a Healer position at the Pitié-Salpêtrière hospital, seemingly keeping up the charade of being a spinster all the while she and Laurent had carried on in private. They'd been so happy, living comfortably off their combined incomes (and her Gringotts account) in a comfortably luxurious apartment in the heart of magical Paris. As with all good things, it inevitably came to an end.
Laurent and his team had been ambushed in 1955 by a group of magical German terrorists, leftover remnants from Grindelwald's reign of terror. Laurent had been grievously injured, and in spite of the best efforts of Cassie and her team of Healers for almost two whole months, Laurent had finally succumbed to his injuries. Devastated, she'd spent days grieving for her lost love, only to be hospitalized after suffering from a very sudden hemorrhaging. To her horror, Cassie had been told she'd suffered a miscarriage, only twelve weeks along. Understandably, she suffered a nervous breakdown, spending almost three months in a catatonic state. By pulling some strings, Arcturus had her moved back to England to Chevenoir - the Black ancestral home - where he'd seen her attended to by his personal team of private Healers.
Hidden away, she'd spent almost a year slowly digging herself out of her grief and depression, becoming functional enough to be reintroduced formally back into the family. Reconnecting with Tom in 1960 (then Lord Gaunt for almost a decade), the two had maintained a private friendship, reigniting the camaraderie they'd shared during their school years. She'd lived up to the curmudgeon spinster image, using that as a means to discretely tutor her grand-nephew Regulus Black in his budding Metamorph abilities, and occasionally consulting with St. Mungo's on some particularly difficult cases. When war had officially broken out in 1972, Tom had invited her to join his Knights of Walpurgis, and she, unwilling to sit idly by while terrorists ran amuck and killed innocents, had gladly acquiesced. Cassie had used her Metamorph abilities for recon missions in England and France, helping to coordinate safe houses and serving as the Knights' primarily Healer.
At the current time, she worked under an alias as a consultant for the Liaison Program, and worked under various other aliases within the magical underworld. A Knight's duty never truly ended.
Pulling out her chair, Tom smiled as the witch graciously took her seat, immediately preparing herself a cup of tea and a small plate of raspberry jam-filled mini pies. Tom sat across from her and resumed drinking his coffee, waiting for her to get comfortable.
"Sooooo… I heard through the grapevine that you are finally going to make an honest woman of Libra." Tom rolled his eyes as she snickered.
"Yes Cassie, I am finally going to make an honest woman out of Libra. I won't deny that I am shocked that she obliged me for so long. But… I do love her, deeply and without reservation. I'm very happy to take the next steps." Cassie smiled warmly while Tom lightly blushed and cleared his throat.
"I will be invited to the wedding, yes?" Tom laughed at her cheeky question, eyes crinkled in genuine amusement.
"Yes Cassie, you will of course be invited. Once all of the relevant details are finalized, I will send you a personalized invitation."
"You most certainly will," she haughtily replied with her nose in the air, before the two friends broke down in laughter. The two sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, before Cassie reached her right hand directly down the bosom of her dress, plucking out seven Unbreakable vials one at a time. She placed them in front of Tom (who internally gawked at her means of concealment), watching him as he carefully examined the swirling memories contained within them.
"As promised, the memories pertaining to the 'Wizards Weekend' involving Lords Potter, Malfoy, Yaxley, Nott, Warrington, Crabbe, and Goyle. They were as bawdy as drunken wizards can be, though Malfoy surprisingly maintained his dignity in spite of his inebriation." Tom snorted, completely unsurprised at Lucius maintaining his stuck up visage. "As you already know, the Cabaret provides particular… services for their VIP clientele." Tom's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Unbeknownst to the clientele, the women are required to provide memories to the club's management to ensure that nothing… untoward occurs. While clientele are both promised and given the utmost discretion, that does not mean they're allowed to use and abuse the women who provide the services. This is a means to ensure that the practice is…maintained. Those memories correspond to the seven witches that were tasked to…take care of the wizards." Her expression became noticeably disgusted, the same mirrored on Tom's face.
"And did any of these wizards do anything… untoward?"
"Thankfully no, not even little Tibby." She sneered at the name, her hatred for the despicable wizard very well known to Tom and their peers. She still remembered - in stark haunting detail - the poor Muggle teenage girls she'd had to heal after the Ghosts' violent raids, victims Tiberius had… hunted and brutalized in unspeakable ways. Cassie yearned to rip the wretched monster to pieces with her bare hands. "But some of those memories are somewhat…disturbing, especially considering Lord Potter's enduring… obsession with his ex-wife. Be advised; whatever these new… friendships entail cannot bode well for Lily. That Yaxley is scheming all of this confirms Cassilda's guiding influence, to what end we can only guess. But, knowing Seneschal Selwyn, it does not bode well for Lily." Tom's expression grew grim.
"Trust me, I am very well aware. Cassilda has been scheming for almost two decades, and I do not doubt that she's orchestrating all of this to somehow get to me." Cassie snorted indelicately, causing Tom to glare.
"That's putting it lightly. She's completely obsessed with you, not unlike James with Lily. And she never took your rejection well." Tom winced, remembering all too well Cassilda's many… advances in a bid to win him over. All had failed, as had her subsequent assassination attempts. It seemed that in spite of her attempting to kill him, she still wanted him. To what end, he did not want to know.
"Good, so long as you are aware." Nodding, Tom banished the vials to his personal study. Pouring himself and Cassie another cup of tea, the two finally caught up on other equally important matters.
AN 1: Draco has shown his hand, and he will not stop there. He will do...something serious enough that will lead to a major confrontation. The Hydra will be involved, and Harry will have his vengeance.
AN 2: Introducing Cassiopeia Black! I rarely see her character get explored enough, and I liked that TSM imagined her to be a Metamorph. Wanted to give more nuance to her character. We'll see her come up once more!
Next up, The Reunion Seminar for the Magical Youth Liaison Program, and Draco strikes!