CHAPTER 32
4 January 1992 - Slytherin Dorm - 10:47PM
A grumbling Rodney Montague angrily yanked open the door to his room and stepped out into the Prefect's Row, looking sharply at the blank wall to his left as he fastened his silver snake adorned robe. It was the third night in a row since his return to Hogwarts that the Seventh Year Prefect had been awoken late in the night by what sounded like shifting gears and crumbling masonry just outside his door. And for the third night in a row since his return from holiday, there was no sign of the source of the noise. Frowning keenly at the blank wall, Rodney walked right up to it and glared, hoping it would reveal something about what was making all the Merlin-forsaken racket. But a few tense beats passed and nothing happened; all he saw was a mortared gray wall with a big ugly crack in the middle.
Shaking his head in frustration, Rodney briskly walked back into his room, slammed the door, and hopped back into his bed. "Hope I can get some bloody sleep tonight, Merlin's beard! Bloody castle is falling apart, damned pipes are leaking, and there's all that…hissing!" He shuddered in spite of himself at his last statement. The creepy hissing noises had recently started at random intervals, and it sounded like it was right next door to his bedroom. Shrugging off his lingering apprehension and annoyance, Rodney closed his eyes to sleep.
A Few Hours Later…
Theo and Blaise turned at the sound of the door opening and closing by itself. A flutter of air later, and an utterly exhausted Harry materialized out of thin air, tossing the Potter invisibility cloak onto his bed. The younger Potter has succeeded in ultimately bullying his elder brother to hand over the cloak during the past weekend, practically threatening Jim (much like had during their confrontation in front of the Mirror of Erised) to let him borrow the cloak for a few 'sneaky snakey errands'. Not willing to further incite his brother's frightening wrath, Jim had given it to him, with a shaking command that Harry 'better not ruin it'.
"Well?" asked Blaise, "are we good to go?" The young Zabini had been filled in on all events upon his return to Hogwarts two days prior, who'd gawked in open awe upon seeing the Lair, and been rendered speechless when Harry had admitted to being a Parselmouth. Upon seeing quite a few Zabinis of eras past who'd served as Consiliarii, Harry had decided to continue the tradition with Blaise.
"Did the runespoor finally agree?" Theo asked, sitting up in his bed to get a better look at Harry as he painstakingly shucked his outer clothes, groaning all the way.
"No, unfortunately not. Alecto is as testy as ever, Magaera can't be bothered to entertain my impertinence, and Tisiphone actively curses my complete disregard for 'Princely tradition." Harry smiled ruefully as he painstakingly changed into pajamas, while Theo and Blaise frowned at his statement. "But no worries; their vote only counts as one, which they held in abstention. Overall it was 5-1, which is more than enough. We'll do it tonight after dinner, give us a fresh start before the new week so to speak." Harry turned and hissed at Selma, who slithered out of her terrarium and down to his bed, curling in her usual position besides his pillow. Out of reflex Theo and Blaise shuddered, still not used to the sibilant sounds.
"But right now - yawn - I'm going to bed. Please wake me before lunch, I need to make a quick stop by my mum before… Malfoy… returns…" He gave a great yawn as his voice grew faint, cuddling into his thick blanket while he fought to stay awake. By his side, Selma soothingly hissed at him to go to sleep.
"And you're sure you don't want us in there with you?" Blaise asked.
"Mmmmm. No – yawn – you two'll stay… in.. the... Common Room ... to.. observe reactions. Besides, it might get – yaaaaawn – a bit scary in there. I need to project total – yaaaawwwwnnnn –... poise 'n confidence 'n stuff. Really… ruins… the effect if either… of you gets ... jumpy…" and with that Harry started lightly snoring, finally succumbing to sleep. Scowling, Blaise made to retort at the insinuation that he lacked poise when Theo (whisperingly) interrupted him.
"No Blaise, let… let him sleep. Trust me, he's right." Blaise made to interrupt him again but Theo held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "Trust me, he's right. It's best not to be in there, especially when they get… agitated." Theo shuddered visibly at the rather terrifying recollection of watching and listening to an irritated krait and infuriated runespoor go back and forth, all while a gigantic basilisk attempted to play mediator. Quietly nodding at his friend's discomforted visage, Blaise finally dropped the issue. Following a still snoring Harry's cue, the two young Slytherins went to sleep.
The Following Day - Slytherin Common Room - 8:19PM
From his vantage, Harry quietly scanned the room, taking in all conversations. It was unnaturally crowded as the returning Slytherins blathered on about school work, their holiday vacation, and (grossly enough) what broom closets they'd be meeting in for after-curfew snogging. Internally shuddering in disgust, Harry quickly took note of Donovan Urquart and Conrad Vaisey, who were seated on a sofa near the fireplace with their fellow Fourth Years. Next to them sat Rodney Montague, who was engaged in an intense Arithmancy-based conversation with his fellow Seventh Year Prefect Olivia Kolumbiko, the gorgeous modelesque niece of Libra Kolumbiko. To his amusement, Harry noted Rodney occasionally blushing when Olivia stared intently at him, stuttering before continuing on with the topic at hand. On the far side of the room, Marcus Flint held court over the Quidditch team as they discussed new plays for their upcoming match with Hufflepuff. Next to them sat Draco and his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, the former of whom noticed Harry's stare. Sneering rather hatefully, Draco started at Harry's responding smirk, goading the boy into responding. True to form, Malfoy stood and with cronies flanking each side, approached Harry and his friends.
"So predictable," said Blaise quietly, with no small amount of amusement. By his side, Theo snorted in agreement.
"Indeed," replied Harry. "Time to put on a show."
"What are you looking at, Potter?" Draco spat, gray eyes narrowed in childish anger. Unbeknownst to anyone else, the young Malfoy Heir had experienced a rather tense and miserable Christmas, as both parents seemed to be at each other's throats. Well, his mother seemed to be at his father's throat, since the latter had decided the holidays were an excellent time to begin training his heir for his future duties. Narcissa Malfoy had thrown a rather terrible tantrum that lasted for the entire of the holiday, resulting in a vicious duel between the parents that had ended in the destruction of the Malfoy family harpsichord hall, along with several sets of priceless china.
"Oh nothing much, just a bit of… overdue housekeeping as I like to call it" said Harry amiably as he smiled patronizingly at Draco, who startingly realized that he'd just been insulted. "You see, I've decided that I can no longer allow your filth to linger and spread like vermin." Draco's eyes goggled at that while Harry took a step closer. "It would be more effective and practical and, honestly, more fun to simply crush you. Like a bug. Under. My. Foot." And then, before Draco could say anything in response, Harry turned aside from him and moved to the center of the room.
"Ladies and gentle-wizards of Slytherin House!" Harry said loudly and confidently. "May I have your attention please?" The assembled Slytherins, who made up almost half of the house, grew quiet and attentive, if somewhat bemused at the little firstie's presumption. "Thank you kindly. As some of you are no doubt aware, there has been conflict within the First Year Slytherin class between myself and Draco Malfoy and our respective associates. Our disagreement nearly resulted in physical violence during All Hallow's Eve right here in this Common Room. For that most vulgar display, I apologize profusely." Harry bowed his head in a rather convincing manner of humility, causing the assembled Snakes to exchange confused albeit amused glances.
"This conflict between Mr. Malfoy and myself was taken a step further when Mr. Malfoy, along with his colleagues Messrs. Urquhart and Vaisey," he paused here to stare intensely at the two Fourth Years, who exchanged nervous glances "decided to directly harm a close associate of mine." Curious mutters started at that statement, as they all wondered just what could have happened. The very few in the know were the staunchly Pureblood upperclassmen, who'd approved of the terrible act. "Now as I see it," he continued, "this conflict between Mr. Malfoy and myself arises from his belief – about which he has droned on and on for months – that because of my lineage, my connection to the Boy-Who-Lived, the blood-status of my various colleagues and allies, and my general views on certain political issues, I am unworthy to hold a place within Slytherin House. That my associates are unworthy to have a place in this magical world at all. Well, I have something to say in response to that. Indeed, what I have to say will, I think, prove my right to a place in this House rather conclusively." He paused then, smiling a rather chillingly pointed smile. "In fact, and without intending disrespect to anyone here, what I have to say may well prove that I'm more fit to be a Slytherin than, well, nearly every Slytherin currently residing in this castle."
The crowd's muttering turned dark at that, but Harry continued on, completely unperturbed. "Unfortunately, what I have to say also concerns somewhat delicate matters that I don't think should be bandied about the Common Room for everyone to hear. Unlike Mr. Malfoy, I believe that discretion and subtlety are important, if underestimated, Slytherin values. So, when I do address Mr. Malfoy and Messrs. Vaisey and Urquhart, I shall do so in a place of privacy and only in front of a small group of respected House members. With that in mind, I would kindly ask that Mr. Rodney Montague, Miss Olivia Kolumbiko and Mr. Marcus Flint accompany Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Urquhart, Mr. Vaisey, and myself so that we can continue this discussion," Harry hesitated for just a second, "in the conference room." And with that, Harry turned on his heels and headed towards Prefect's Row.
Behind him, the assembled Slytherins began talking in confusion (and for some, in outrage) until Marcus Flint loudly called out, "Hang on! What conference room?!"
Harry paused at the corridor entrance and slowly looked back at him. "The one at the end of Prefect's Row, of course." Then, with that same chillingly pointed smile, he turned and continued on down the hall.
Flint's brow furrowed in confusion. "There's no conference room at the end of Prefect's Row!" he exclaimed.
"Oh, yes there is," Harry's voice loudly echoed down the corridor. "A big one, too!"
Now even more confused, Flint looked over to the Seventh Year Prefects ... and did a double-take. Marcus had heard the expression "the blood drained from his face," but he'd never actually seen it before. But at the moment, Rodney Montague honestly looked so pale he might as well have been drained by a vampire. For her part, Olivia looked little better as she blinked so rapidly Marcus thought her eyeballs would fall right out, as the two prefects slowly stood. Marcus moved towards them (past an utterly perplexed Draco Malfoy) in time to hear a shaken Olivia ask "Could it possibly be true, Rodney?"
With a vicious swear, Montague turned and practically ran towards Prefect's Row, continuing to emit a trail of vulgarities that Marcus openly balked in spite of himself.
"Marcus, take Malfoy and follow Rodney. Urquhart and Vaisey, make your way down as well," said Olivia firmly, watching with a gimlet eye as the boys nervously followed her instructions. Vaisey looked rather nauseous, and Urquhart was none the better. Then, she turned and loudly addressed the rest of the confused Slytherins. "Everyone else, stay here! All other prefects, you will guard the entrance to Prefect's Row. No one is to enter until we return! If I catch anyone even looking down that hallway – including younger prefects – I'll hex you so hard Madame Pomfrey will have to pick the pieces out of a bucket!" And with that, the young witch pulled her wand and followed the others down the hall.
As the room broke out into excited chatter, Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other and then towards Zabini and Nott. "Um, what's going on?" Goyle asked Harry's two friends.
"Your boss sowed the wind," said Theo calmly. "This might take a while. You guys know how to play Exploding Snap?" Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other again, shrugged, and started looking around for an open table.
Meanwhile, Olivia, Urquhart, Vaisey, Marcus, and Draco had come to a stop behind Rodney, who was standing in front of an inky black portal where a brick wall used to be. "Okaaaay," said Marcus uneasily, "that's never been there before!"
"Olivia," said Rodney in a shaky voice, "this… this looks exactly the way they described the entrance to us. Does… does this mean ...?" Urquhart and Vaisey exchanged nervous glances, frightened at the implications that they yet didn't understand.
"I don't know, Rodney," she said quietly.
"But if it is, does that mean that Potter is ... you know?"
"I. Don't. Know, Rodney," she said again. Her breathing had increased in pace and her brown eyes were squinting in concentration as she admired the passageway described to her by her own father, who'd crossed that threshold many times during his Slytherin tenure.
"What is all this? Some trick of Potter's?" said Draco irritably.
"Silence Malfoy," Olivia said as she continued studying the door.
"Don't talk to me like that! My father – OWW!"
"Can it, sprog!" said Marcus angrily, after cuffing Malfoy hard on the back of his head. Though Malfoy glared mutinously at the Quidditch captain, he thankfully remained quiet.
Rodney and Olivia looked at each other and nodded before entering the passageway together with their wands drawn. With a wary glance, Marcus, Donovan, Conrad, and Draco followed. Once inside, Marcus was so thoroughly impressed he didn't notice the soft grind of the door closing behind him. This was definitely a conference room, albeit an unusual one. There was even a conference table, flanked on either side by fancy chairs bearing brass snake-head finials. But at the head of the table, there wasn't a chair.
There was a throne. A massive throne.
It was an incredible edifice carved out of solid basalt, inlaid with glowing lines of silver filigree and with thick green silk cushions to provide comfort. But the most impressive – and intimidating – thing about this throne was what sprang out from its back: a number of truly massive silver snake sculptures, each bearing huge emeralds for eyes. The center snake that dominated was a massive silver basilisk, its gigantic tree-trunk body curved protectively over the throne, emerald eyes the size of a man's fist glowing eerily from its head. Flanking it were a python and a king cobra that were impressively tall, also bearing glowing emerald eyes that stared unblinkingly. On the right side of the throne (from Marcus's perspective) were three smaller but still oversized silver snakes – representations of an ashwinder, a boomslang, and finally a blue krait, though this one was, of course, silver. With emerald eyes glowering irritably. The left side bore a large runespoor that looked (to Marcus' shock) rather peeved, all three heads bearing equal expressions of keen disdain. The entire thing looked like the throne of an ancient serpentine deity of antiquated myth.
And currently sitting on the throne - as if born to it - was Harry Potter.
"Thank you all for coming," he said amiably. "Please take a seat."
Rodney pointed his wand towards Harry, though it shook in the boy's hand. "Get out of that chair," he growled in a mixture of rage and fear.
Harry leaned forward with an innocent and rather patronizing expression on his face. "Why, Rodney? Is ... is this your chair?"
"Dammit Potter...!" exclaimed Rodney. His wand-hand shook even harder as beads of sweat shone on his brow. A few beats passed before Harry indulgently responded:
"I didn't think so." said Harry cheerfully. "In fact, this chair doesn't seem to be anyone's in this room. Though, like every Seventh Year Prefect before you, I know you've been told by your predecessors about this chair ... and this room ... and what it probably means that I'm sitting here right now. Especially you Olivia." He gave the still shell-shocked witch a rather keen look, as several of her ancestors had spent significant time in the Lair. Leaning back, Harry turned his gaze to the other four Slytherins who were looking around the Lair in various states of shocked wander. "Marcus? Draco? Conrad? Donovan? From the looks you're giving, I'll wager that neither of you know anything at all about this chair. Which is patently sad in your case, Draco. You see, not too long ago, your father sat where I'm sitting now. Lucius Malfoy claimed this seat when he was a student. His name is on one of those silver placards mounted over there on the wall. And interestingly enough, two ancestresses of the Malfoy family also occupied this seat." He pointed towards the Princeps Emeriti plaque, "'Lucius Malfoy, 1970-1972'. 'Ismelda Malfoy, 1585 - 1588'. 'Danica Malfoy, 1449 - 1551'. Alas Draco, I am sorry to say that no, this will never be your chair either."
Harry ignored Draco's look of confused petulance and addressed the whole group, raising his arms out to gesture around him. "This... is the Hydra Throne. It was crafted by Salazar Slytherin himself before he left Hogwarts to provide guidance to future generations of Slytherin students. This seat is reserved for the student who claims the mantle of ... the Prince of Slytherin."
"And that's you?" asked Rodney disbelievingly. Olivia had gently put her hand on his wand arm, which he slowly lowered.
"Isn't it?" Harry asked, staring unblinkingly at Rodney as he older boy struggled not to swallow his tongue. Beside him, Olivia openly gawked that a little firstie had succeeded in ascending to the Hydra Throne! Suddenly, Harry burst into laughter. "No, of course not! Don't be silly, Rodney! An eleven-year-old Prince? That would be laughable! Mind you, I do plan to be the Prince of Slytherin, but I have years to go before I satisfy the requirements of the position. No, I'm just sitting here now because, well, I guess you could say I have special permission for one night only. A dispensation, so to speak. Which is a good thing, since the throne is perfectly capable of killing people who sit here without permission. Now, as I said out in the Common Room, I have something important to say, but it's something I want kept quiet which is why we're here."
"You see," he continued, "there are reasons almost no one knows about this room or this chair or the whole 'Prince of Slytherin' deal. One reason is that the Prince himself is not someone who struts around bragging about his status. Or hers, for that matter – many of the Princes have been female. The Prince rules from the shadows, quietly shaping and guiding the House according to Salazar's vision instead of bullying others around like a spoiled child, an idea that is clearly beyond your comprehension, Malfoy." He glared at Draco who for once, was thankfully silent as he continued to stare in petulant confusion. "But the most important reason for the Prince's secrecy is, naturally, magic."
Harry gestured around the room. "This room – the Prince's Lair – carries a very powerful enchantment, one that has preserved its secrets for eleven centuries. While this chair is occupied, whether long term or just temporarily, a magical contract covers the doorway, binding anyone who enters to an oath of secrecy. After we leave here, we'll all be completely incapable of discussing anything that's said in here tonight without the express permission of the Prince himself. And since I'm the acting-Prince, if for one night only, I'm confident we'll all be keeping our secrets. Whatever is discussed in this room, you won't ever be able to repeat to anyone else or even write down, not even under threat of Veritaserum, legilimency, or the Imperius Curse. Should a Legilimens attempt to read you, all he or she will find is inky blackness and silence where any memories about this room should be. All of which means I can speak and act freely without fear of gossip… or reprisal. Then, once you're satisfied with my Slytherin bona fides, we can move on to resolving my little conflict with little Draco."
Draco made a face at Harry's familiarity, but inside, he was exceedingly nervous. He had never heard about this room or about any "Prince of Slytherin" and certainly didn't know that it was a title his own father and previous ancestors had once held. Worse, he had the increasingly disturbing feeling that by threatening Hermione Granger and Theo Nott and thereby pushing Harry Potter too far, he had unleashed something quite beyond his control. Something dangerous. Something terrible. Following the lead of the older Slytherins, Draco sat down in one of the chairs nearest the door, directly in front of Flint. On each of his side Donovan and Conrad nervously sat, not daring to speak. Rodney and Olivia took their seats next to Flint on the opposite side. As they sat, Harry smiled warmly at them all, but Draco could see malice glinting in those green eyes, eyes, he realized, were the exact same shade of emerald green as the massive snakes of the throne. The blonde shuddered.
"Alright, firstie," said Marcus somewhat irritably. He alone had absolutely no idea what was going on which, at the moment, put him in the odd position of being the one person in the room not afraid of Harry Potter. "We're here. What's so important that you have to say to us?"
Harry's smile actually broke out into a broad grin as he chuckled softly. "I am sorry, Marcus. Perhaps I was a bit unclear. I said I had something to say that would prove my worthiness as a Slytherin. I never meant to imply that I would be speaking to any of you."
And then ... Harry Potter HISSED!
The other six had barely a fraction of a second to process the fact that "Harry Potter, Son to House Potter and Brother of the Boy-Who-Lived is a bloody Parselmouth!" when they were all startled by the movement and sounds which erupted all around them. Each of the six-inch brass adder-head finials on the chairs instantly stretched into three-foot-long writhing brass adders which then twisted themselves around and extended their fangs just a foot or so away from each Slytherin's head. Simultaneously, each of the silver snakes attached to the throne also came to life, writhing and hissing at the group. The great basilisk in the center bent down to look directly at Olivia who screamed in mortal terror for nearly ten seconds before she finally realized that it wasn't a real basilisk and its gaze wasn't fatal. Scaringly enough, the basilisk looked to be smiling in amusement at her horrified reaction! It was another ten seconds before the rest of the screams died down into a general hysterical mumbling and hyperventilation so that Harry could finally speak.
"So," he said easily, "do I have everyone's attention?"
After a few more seconds of looking around in panic, the six Slytherins all slowly nodded. Rodney was the first to speak.
"You ... you're a ... Parseltongue?" he asked, eyes blown wide in shock.
"No, Rodney, I'm a Parselmouth," Harry said. "Parseltongue is the language. Parselmouth is the person who speaks it. A rather common mistake, well, so my mum tells me anyway." The gathered six gawked at that statement, connecting the dots that Lily Evans - muggleborn Lily Evans! - was also a speaker of the Founder's tongue.
"But ... you're a Potter! Potters hate Slytherins! It's been that way for at least two hundred years!"
"Really? Huh. I had no idea it went back that far. I do know my birth-father has an irrational hatred of Slytherins. He sent me a lovely note about it the day after my Sorting. As I recall, you were all there when it exploded. But thankfully, James Potter had no part in raising me, therefore I have no inclination to his rather absurd ancestral bigotries. The general topic of Parseltongue came up when I was a mere child, where my mother - a Speaker herself - mentioned to me that thanks to the previous war, being a Parselmouth is a sign of being a dark wizard, which we both wholeheartedly agreed was ignorant nonsense." Stunned silence met his statement, as all six absorbed the confirmation that Lily Evans was, in fact, a Parselmouth. Which meant that somehow, she was a descendant of the great Salazar Slytherin. "Of course, out there in the rest of the world, I can only talk to actual snakes, but Hogwarts is so permeated with magic that nearly everything that even looks like a snake is susceptible to Parseltongue." He looked around at all the snakes that surrounded him. "As you have no doubt noticed."
"Is Jim a Parselmouth?" asked Marcus.
Harry perked up in amusement and considered the matter. "That's a very insightful question, Marcus. I can see why the ashwinder likes you. Honestly, I've no idea. Circumstances have never contrived to put me and Jim together in a room that had a snake in it. I wouldn't be surprised if he were, since he's my twin and all. Of course, my birth-father's views on Parseltongue are hardly a secret, so I expect if Jim does have the gift, he's concealed it. Or maybe he's just never gotten close enough to a snake because of a childish belief that they're all slimy and evil." Harry snorted, then smiled rather evilly. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if the Boy-Who-Lived were a Parselmouth, and it got publicly revealed? James would have a stroke. I'll have to look into arranging that." He laughed snidely, causing the assembled six to exchange very nervous glances.
"Anyway," he continued. "It is true that no descendent of Salazar Slytherin has ever married into the Potter family. Which only means that I could only have inherited this gift – and it is exclusive to descendants of Salazar Slytherin – from my mother's side. A conclusion I am certain you have all reached." He gave a significant stare as almost all nodded in agreement, with the notable exception of one.
"But, your mother's a Mud..." the adders on either side of Draco's head hissed loudly, "that is, a Muggleborn. How can she be descended from Salazar Slytherin?"
Harry shrugged. "Well, presumably, reports of her Muggleborn status are somewhat overstated. Let's just say I've been exploring her family tree - our family tree - for a while and things… aren't always as they seem."
Olivia looked at him speculatively while trying to ignore the basilisk that loomed over his head. "If you're not the Prince of Slytherin, who is?"
"As I said, there's not one at the moment. To become the Prince, you have to be a student who's gained the approval of all seven of the serpents who comprise the Hydra Throne, each of whom represents a different characteristic that the Founder considered important for his students." Harry pointed up at the basilisk looming over him. "The basilisk, Rajah, represents ambition, although he prefers to think of it as 'vision.' For him, it's not enough to be personally ambitious, like wanting wealth and fame. You see, you need an ambition to shape the whole world to your will in some way. To Rajah's right is the python, Jormungand, named after the snake that encircled the world. He represents political acumen and the ability to form winning coalitions. For example, he is very supportive of my membership in an inter-house study group but is otherwise appalled at how terribly insular the rest of the House has become over the last few decades. To Rajah's left is Ka the Cobra, who represents the Slytherin respect for Scholarly Excellence, in academia and otherwise. Moving on down from him, we have Mara the Ashwinder, who represents cunning and cleverness. Next is Delilah the Boomslang, who represents the values of charm and subtlety which, as I have already said, are greatly undervalued in the House nowadays."
He paused and looked over towards the boomslang. "In all honesty, I have to say Delilah's my favorite. Isn't she just gorgeous?" The boomslang twisted her body around until her head was near Harry's, her forked tongue flicking at his nose. He hissed at her softly and then tickled under her chin, causing the silver snake to make a soft ki-ki-ki sound which the terrified Slytherin students all realized was the sound of a snake's laughter. Harry turned back to the group, focusing a suddenly grim expression towards Draco. "On the far right is the krait, Nidhogg, who represents ruthlessness," he said without elaboration. Draco swallowed, as Donovan and Conrad mimicked his action. They suddenly noticed that the krait was staring at them very intently, and had been doing so for some time.
"Last but not least, on the opposite side, we have the runespoor, whose three heads are called Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto. They collectively represent respect for wizarding traditions, which, I should point out, is not synonymous with blood purity." All three heads sniffed rather haughtily at Harry's statement.
"That's a lie!" exclaimed Draco despite the angry hissing of the brass adders. "Salazar Slytherin wanted to purge the school of Mudbloods!"
Harry glared at the blonde's insistent use of that odious slur, and then flicked his wand lazily towards a bookshelf. "ACCIO SLYTHERIN MEMOIRS VOLUMES 1, 2 and 3."
And with that, three large leather bound volumes flew off the shelf and landed on the table with a thud. "The long forgotten truth, Draco, is that Salazar Slytherin was opposed to Muggleborns attending Hogwarts, but not because they were inferior or he believed them to be inferior. It was because he thought they would be at an unfair disadvantage compared to the wizard-raised students. In the days of Hogwarts' founding, a Muggleborn most likely came from peasant stock, meaning that he or she was illiterate, innumerate, highly superstitious, and more than likely never bathed. Salazar believed that Muggleborns should be removed from Muggle society and elevated to the same intellectual and cultural level as wizarding children, so they could be integrated fully into magical society before being allowed into Hogwarts. For a variety of… political and ethical reasons, his idea was renounced by the other Founders as well as the wizarding government that existed at the time. Therefore, Salazar grudgingly accepted the presence of Muggleborn peasant wizards and witches who were mainstreamed straight into the school. And despite his many reservations, there were a small number of Muggleborns Sorted into Slytherin during his tenure, many of whom earned his respect for how hard they worked to fulfill their ambitions and assimilate into magical society. It has only been within the last three or four centuries that the House has become so hostile to Muggleborns that almost none of them are ever Sorted here."
"And no, there was never a 'great battle' between him and Godric Gryffindor that led to him leaving Hogwarts in anger. His wife at the time contracted dragon pox and experienced a very difficult recovery, and he took both her and their minor children back to his ancestral home in Spain for the warmer climate, where he remained for the rest of his life. Gryffindor himself actually died of natural causes several years before Slytherin's departure, an event that he wrote of with great sadness and regret. The final volume of his memoirs, however, contains reference to his continued friendly correspondence with the other two Founders over a twenty-year span between his departure and his eventual death. Anything you've heard about the man to the contrary is merely propaganda spread by blood purists who came along centuries later. Next?"
"Does all that stuff you just said mean that you don't support the Dark Lord?" asked Marcus bluntly.
"I assume you're referring to the most recent Dark Lord, the one who got himself blown up by a baby eleven years ago, and the answer is, no, I don't. I love my Muggleborn mother very much, and I'll be damned if I ever agree to a political philosophy which says neither she nor I should have never been born! And as it stands, the Hydra agrees with me. Over the most recent three decades, it has appointed Princes who adhered to blood purity doctrines because it looked like a blood purity extremist like You-Know-Who was likely to win, and Slytherins generally always support being on the winning team. But then, the Dark Lord lost rather decisively, and having had a decade or so to consider the matter, the Hydra's consensus view is that blood purism has, on the whole, been damaging to Slytherin House, which is all the Hydra really cares about. Nowadays, people who by temperament and philosophy should become Slytherins instead go under the Hat begging be Sorted elsewhere because they cannot fathom stuck for seven years with a bunch of violently bigoted terrorist sympathizers, far too many of whom show obvious signs of inbreeding. In a feat of unprecedented irony, we've become like the dark mirror of Hufflepuff – scooping up the leftovers of all others who do not belong in the remaining houses, and are also mean and prejudiced."
There was a pregnant pause as the assembled Slytherins digested this. Finally, Olivia spoke: "Why did you bring us here?" she asked quietly. Harry gazed at her contemplatively before turning to glare at Draco, Donovan, and Conrad. With a few sharp hisses, the still-hissing adders above their heads stretched to wrap around the boys' bodies as they screamed in earnest, as all three were hoisted high the air to the center of the table in a rather macabre serpentine representation of the Crucifixion. The older Slytherins could only gawk in horrified shock at the scene, though Harry's expression remained stony and unmoved.
"P-Potter! Put me down now, you half-blooded bast-" Draco's voice shook in terrified panic.
"P-P-Please Potter!" "It-it was a-a-a misunderstanding!" "Mercy please Potter, MERCY!"
"SsSsSILENCE!" Harry's snarling hiss somehow thundered across the three boys as they finally stopped their struggles against the adders. Donovan and Conrad wept rather pitifully, as Draco glared mutinously, trying (and failing) to look intimidating.
"Good, you're capable of following instructions. Old dogs, new tricks and all that, no?" Harry glared significantly at Draco, who shakingly glared back but didn't respond. "Draco Malfoy came into this House expecting to be the child-tyrant of Slytherin whose every command must be obeyed. I derailed him from that and he's been out to get me ever since. For the most part, he's only been annoying, but on the sixth of December, he directly threatened two someone's who are very important to me. Theo Nott is my friend and ally and someone who I think will rise in time to become of great value to this House. But Theo's father Tiberius is a psychopathic nutcase who ought to be rotting in Azkaban, and who's already gotten away with murdering Theo's mother right in front of him. As it stands, Theo has also become good friends with my other friend and ally Hermione Granger, a muggleborn whom Draco never resists to demean with his continued use of that disgusting slur I won't bother repeating. And Draco here couldn't resist killing two birds with one stone. On the sixth of December, Draco, along with Donovan and Conrad here," the two boys whimpered pathetically at the mention of their names "ambushed and attacked Theo and Hermione while they were in the Astronomy Tower! He took a photo of them together, threatening to send the incriminating evidence to Tiberius, which would have resulted in Theo's… grievous punishment." Rodney choked at that statement, knowing about Tiberius' infamous temper all too well.
"When Hermione rather bravely thwarted that plan, Draco had Crabbe and Goyle restrain Theo while he instructed Conrad and Donovan to levitate Hermione just beyond the Tower's protective railing." Olivia gasped in horror before turning to glare at Draco, as Flint and Rodney levelled twin stares of disgust at the boy's murder attempt. Though trying to look defiant, Harry caught brief flashes of regret and guilt in Draco's eyes. 'Curious, very curious' the young Potter thought. He filed that away for later. "From there, he cruelly taunted Hermione to admit that she was lesser because of her blood status, and finally succeeding in forcing her to admit as such - while she hung hundreds of feet above rock - he finally let her back on solid ground. Oh, and he didn't fail to threaten Theo that it would be him levitating off a ledge should he continue to associate with her. Isn't that right, Draco?" Harry's voice was like a razor as he glared at Draco, daring him to disagree. Draco remained silent and defeated, as did a still-weeping Donovan and Conrad.
"You little shit! You almost got a student killed! What the hell is the matter with you?!" Marcus bore an expression of genuine outrage as he glared at the three hoisted in the air, and once more, Harry noted those twin flashes of regret and guilt in Draco's eyes.
"Little shit indeed Marcus. And so, Olivia and Rodney," he continued, "I consulted with the Hydra for its advice. After several days of negotiation, the majority of serpents agreed that I could exercise limited authority as Prince tonight for the sole purpose of showing you two this room and allowing you access to some of the room's benefits in exchange for you helping me out with my Malfoy problem. In particular…" He summoned another thick book from the shelves to land next to Slytherin's memoirs. "This book is an auto-updating record of every question asked on every NEWTs exam over the last hundred years. It doesn't have the answers, but it does have references to where the answers can be found, as well as notations regarding questions which have been asked repeatedly and examples of spells and potions which, if demonstrated, confer extra points."
Olivia and Rodney looked at the book hungrily. "What do you want in exchange?" Rodney said.
"A way to keep Draco Malfoy from trying to hurt my friends. Permanently." Harry looked over towards Draco as if the boy were offensive filth he'd scraped off his shoe. "Because I've been working on the problem for the last week, and, frankly, the only solution I've been able to come up with is to simply kill the little shit!" There was a brief shocked silence ... which was quickly broken by a soft ki-ki-ki from the krait who Harry had identified as Nidhogg, the exemplar of Slytherin ruthlessness.
Draco paled. "You wouldn't d-" he didn't get to finish his statement as Harry sharply hissed one more, causing the adders encircling all three to stretch until their mouths were directly above each of the boys' pulse points. Donovan and Conrad screamed in primordial fear while the little shit in question shook in horror as the adders' mouths widened and fangs glistening with venom were revealed. The implication was quite clear.
"You directly threatened the life of someone on Team Harry, Draco." Harry interrupted in a voice colder than ice. "If you completely ignored even the possibility of a lethal response, I submit that you are the one who doesn't belong in Slytherin. Nidhogg here had a lot of interesting suggestions, and between the two of us, we came up with at least six different ways to murder you before the end of term and get away with it. And once you leave this room, you won't even be able to tell a soul that I'm coming after you." Nidhogg's serpentine ki-ki-ki sounded once more as Harry glared at Draco, eldritch green eyes burning. "How does that sound Draco, hm? Six different ways to perish, all brought forth by your own hand." Draco paled even more than possible, before closing his eyes and foolishly struggling against his incensed adder.
"OPEN YOUR EYES! AND SAY IT TO MY FACE!" Draco's terrified eyes opened in shock to hear his own threat screamed back at him, Harry's expression completely unforgiving. Finally understanding a shred of the terror Hermione must have felt when he'd rendered her powerless in humiliation, Draco tiredly sagged in defeat.
"MERCY POTTER, PLEASE, SHOW MERCY!" Conrad's terrified scream sounded throughout the Lair while Donovan plainly whimpered, not believing that he would survive the night. Glaring with contempt at their cowardice, Harry paused, taking deep breaths and sinking into a placid Occluded state.
"Consider yourselves very lucky then, that I am in a merciful mood. At this point, I am open to any less drastic suggestions from my peers."
"An Unbreakable Vow," Rodney said instantly. "He'll swear never to directly or indirectly try to harm ... well, whoever you say. Actually, all three of them will."
"I will not swear an Unbreakable Vow!" said Draco in a sudden fury.
"Then I will cast the Imperius Curse upon you and make it so that none of you cannot harm Potter or any of his associates," said Olivia coldly. "That, or I will kill you all myself on his behalf!"
"Olivia!" exclaimed Rodney in shock.
She just looked around the room, a smile on her face. "I knew of this place, Rodney, even before my predecessor told me of it. There have been stories passed down in my family for generations, but I had given up hope that I would ever see it myself." She turned to Harry. "I have three ancestors who sat on that throne as well."
He nodded. "Kristoff Kolumbiko, Class of 1756. Ilqis Kolumbiko, Class of 1703. And Noor Kolumbiko, Class of 1677." He pointed to the corresponding names on the wall of silver placards. "Along with several more who served as Consiliarii." He gestured once more to the corresponding placards, a Kolumbiko serving on the administration of almost three-quarters of past Princes. "The most recent being I assume, your father, Sameer Kolumbiko."
She looked where he pointed and smiled even wider. "Besides," she said, "it is as you said. Real Slytherins always pick the winning side. And from what I have seen tonight Harry Potter, I think your ultimate victory is assured."
Marcus Flint slowly raised his hand, leery of the snakes on either side of him. "Umm… if this is about picking the brains of the Seventh Year Prefects, Potter, what am I doing here?"
"Well, I'd had an idea that as Quidditch captain, you could hold out the threat of keeping Draco off the team next year as a way to keep him in line. But mainly... the Hydra asked me to bring you."
Marcus stared unblinkingly. "Beg your pardon?"
Harry pointed again towards the placards of past Princes. "There are four people named Flint up on that wall, Marcus, though none since the 1870's. One Chief Warlock, one esteemed Hogwarts professor, one highly decorated auror ... and, well, one aspiring dark lady who died in Azkaban, but never mind her for now. The Hydra has had its eye on you for a while. It's the consensus of the serpents that you have tremendous potential that you're foolishly choosing to waste. They thought seeing this room might… motivate you to choose a better path. And for what it's worth, Marcus, if I can be of any assistance in helping you, well, get on track, please don't hesitate to ask."
Flint blinked repeatedly and looked around the room again with new eyes. "Thanks, Potter, I mean, uh, Harry. I'll ... think about it."
Finally, everyone turned to stare at young Malfoy and his mewling cronies as they still hung suspended by angry adders. The boy swallowed almost painfully as he looked back and forth among the pitiless faces of his four House-mates. He realized that he'd lost utterly, and so he moved on to what he might still salvage. "What… what would the Vow say?"
"Ki-ki-ki," laughed Nidhogg once more.
Some Time Later…
The seven Slytherins exited Prefect's Row together, giving every appearance of having become great friends (though Conrad and Donovan looked a bit… peaky). Rodney announced to the Common Room (which was now jam-packed with nearly the entire Slytherin student body) that "Harry and Draco" had mended their fences and buried the hatchet and several other cliched idioms as well. In fact, Rodney, Olivia and Marcus all made a point of showing that they were on a first name basis with both boys, a highly unusual honor for two Slytherin firsties, even if one of them was a Malfoy. Then, Draco made his way over to Theo Nott, apologized loudly and profusely for his "unconscionable behavior," and invited the other boy to come and stay with him at Malfoy Manor for the summer so they could get to know one another "as Slytherin brothers ought to." Theo magnanimously accepted both the apology and the invitation almost as if he had been expecting both. For his part, Harry smiled rather amiably at all of Draco's actions, and even publicly announced that he was looking forward to future correspondence with Draco, Donovan, and Conrad in kind. All three had smiled jovially and returned the sentiments.
Curfew soon came, and Olivia and Rodney were insistent that everyone go to bed on time. But being Slytherins, a considerable majority of the House snuck out to the Owlery with urgent letters to mail home to their parents, making sure to not be caught. Some were more detailed and discerning than others (Miranda Bonnevie had written almost two feet of parchment!), but most carried a variation on the same basic theme:
'Something has fundamentally shifted in Slytherin House. And Harry Potter is the fulcrum upon which it has moved.'
Draco Malfoy actually sent out two owls as he sat forlorn in his room, ruminating on all the night's events. Staring from his windowsill, he watched as his own personal owl carried a message for his father stating, among other things, that he had recently begun a friendship with Theo Nott, the son of Lucius's former associate, Tiberius Nott. With the necessary amount of measured concern, Draco had expressed Tiberius Nott's poor treatment of Theo, asking if it would be possible for Lucius to prevail upon Tiberius to let young Theo spend the entire summer break with Draco at Malfoy Manor.
Following his owl was a second, nondescript school owl that carried a much shorter unsigned message meant solely for the eyes of his mother, Narcissa Black Malfoy. It consisted of a single sentence.
'I will never reach the heights you desire for me while Harry Potter lives.'
At Malfoy Manor…
As the nondescript school owl bearing Draco's missive to his mother approached the formidable Manor, it froze mid-flight, encased in a shimmering orb of iridescent magic. Said orb gently floated unseen to a tiny little east-facing window, where Dobby the house elf sat waiting. With a gentle flick of his fingers the letter unfurled, and reading the message entailed within from young master Malfoy, Dobby's sharp gaze grew more intense.
"Interesting… very interesting. Oh young master, what have you done to earn the ire of Fate's Champion?" With another flick of his fingers an identical copy of the letter appeared, which Dobby tucked unseen into his toga and would show to Master Lucius. With a snap the frozen owl was returned back to its initial position, and with another snap, continued its original path.
Feeling Mowgli - Narcissa Malfoy's cruelly wretched elf- approach, Dobby resumed his mask of a quivering and pathetic being that was terrified of his own shadow. 'The things I do for first place.'
AN 1: FINALLY! Harry was rather intense in this scene, glad to see that side of him come out.
AN 2: The whole concept of 'Fate's Champion' will be explored in Year 2/Book 2. Stay tuned!
AN 3: Forgot to include casting! Olivia Kolumbiko will be played by Jodie Turner-Smith, Rodney Montague by George MacKay. Not sure yet about Urquhart and Vaisey, but will decide soon! :)
Next up: Reactions, and Hermione vs. Harry.