Latent Darkness

by RayofDawn

Anti-hero story! (Don't read if you're looking for a hero tale.) Rated M for sex, blood, gore, character death. You've been warned. Jakob Quade, heir to the ancient and noble house of Quade, enters Hogwarts, a world where power is everything, loyalty is fleeting, and ambition comes at a cost. How far will he go, and what will he sacrifice in his pursuit of greatness?

27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 fighting, back to school and a visit to Hagrid.

Harry's emerald-green eyes burned with defiance as he squared up to his Slytherin enemy.

"Harry, you should take it easy. She didn't mean it," Ivy said, stepping forward in an attempt to diffuse the situation. But it was already too late.

Jakob flicked his wrist, his wand snapping into his hand.

"Yeah, Potter, you should apologize to her. Now," he demanded, his voice low and cutting.

Ron snorted, a sneer curling his lips. "And what are you going to do with that, snake?" He jerked his chin toward Jakob's wand, his fingers twitching toward his own.

"If you use it here, you'll be expelled," Harry warned sharply, his wand already drawn.

Before Jakob could reply, a familiar drawl sliced through the tension. "There you are, Jake. I was just-" Draco Malfoy appeared in the corridor, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. His sharp eyes darted over the scene, taking in the standoff.

When Ella began to move toward him, Draco caught her arm gently and gestured for Crabbe to take her further back. "Keep her out of this, and make sure nothing happens to her," he instructed before returning to face the Gryffindors.

Draco's smirk returned. "So, what are the three blood traitors doing in this part of the train? Not planning anything stupid, I hope?" His arms crossed casually, but his voice carried a mocking edge.

"Stay out of this, Malfoy, or I'll personally see to it you spend your first days back in the hospital wing," Ron snarled.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Draco mocked, wagging a finger at Ron. "Not very nice to say, but then again, what can you expect from someone who hangs around Harry Potter, hoping he'll toss you a Galleon or two so your mother doesn't have to sell herself?"

Ron's face darkened, his anger boiling over. Without a word, he lunged at Draco, his fist aimed at the blonde's smirking face. Jakob, who stood in front of Draco, reacted first. He stepped aside and drove his knee into Ron's gut with precision. The redhead doubled over, groaning as the wind was knocked out of him.

"You'll pay for that!" Harry bellowed, rushing in and throwing a punch that landed squarely on Jakob's chin.

The impact staggered him slightly, but before Harry could follow up, Goyle surged forward with a roar, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and slamming him into the train's side. Harry gasped as Goyle pinned him there, lifting him clean off the ground. Goyle leaned his head back before slamming it forward, a crunch echoing as it connected.

"Not so mighty now, Potter," Draco laughed.

Before Goyle could do more damage to the boy who lived, a spell hit him from behind. He let out a grunt, his massive frame swaying before he collapsed, releasing Harry and dropping him unceremoniously to the floor.

Draco turned sharply, his face flushing red as he spotted Ron back on his feet, wand raised. "You dare attack from behind, you little cockroach!"

Draco lashed out with his foot, connecting with Ron's groin. The redhead crumpled with a strangled groan, clutching himself. Draco seized the opportunity, grabbing Ron by the collar and slamming him into the wall. The impact reverberated through the narrow corridor, and Ron slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Draco laughed loudly, pointing at the fallen Gryffindor. "That's all it takes to knock out a Weasley? No wonder you lot are at the bottom of the food chain!"

Amid the chaos, Crabbe had backed away, shielding Ella at the far end of the corridor. He stood like a silent sentinel, wand in hand, ready to act.

"What's happening?" Ella asked, her voice trembling as she tried to peer around Crabbe's bulk.

"I don't know," Crabbe replied, his eyes darting over the scene. "But I think we're winning."

Jakob ducked as a spell from Ivy zipped past his ear, crackling against the wall behind him. He didn't hesitate, lunging at her and tackling her to the ground.

"You shouldn't use spells here," Jakob taunted. "Close combat works better in tight spaces."

"You shouldn't give lectures mid-fight, you arrogant shit," Ivy shot back.

Before Jakob could respond, the redheaded Potter twin lunged forward like a cat, her fist connecting with his temple.

Stars exploded in his vision, and he staggered back.

She grinned ferally, taking advantage of his disorientation to strike him again, hitting his mouth and cracking his lip. This time, Jakob toppled onto his back.

Still bleeding from his nose, Harry managed to stumble upright, swaying slightly as he moved to Ivy's side. The two Potter twins stood shoulder to shoulder, their wands raised, both aimed directly at Jakob. The Slytherin, sprawled on the floor and unarmed, let out a low, mocking chuckle.

"You look like you've been waiting for this moment," Jakob drawled, his voice calm despite the situation. "Go ahead, Potter. Show me you're just as bad as me."

Ivy's eyes flicked toward her brother, unease creeping into her expression. Jakob was defenceless, his wand nowhere in sight. But when her gaze shifted to Harry, her stomach tightened. A pleased smirk was curling at his lips, and the incantation was already forming on his tongue.

"Expellia—"

"Vermillious!"

A bolt of green light streaked across the room, striking Ivy right in the stomach. She uttered a sharp cry as the spell's force sent her flying backwards. Her body hit the wall with a thud before the redhead crumpled to the floor, motionless.

Harry snapped his head toward the source of the attack. Jakob also turned, his earlier defiance replaced by a flicker of shock as they both looked at the one who had cast the spell.

Draco stood a few feet away, his chest heaving as he lowered his wand. A twisted smirk played on his lips. "One blood traitor down," he sneered as his smirk widened.

Harry's fury ignited. "You dare hurt my sister, you freak!" he roared, his wand snapping upward. A burst of fiery orange light shot forth, striking the blond squarely in the chest. Draco screamed as the spell seared through his robes, leaving angry scorch marks on his skin.

Before Draco could recover, Harry followed up with a sharp flick of his wand. A stunning spell hit its mark, silencing the screams as Draco crumpled to the floor in a motionless heap.

Jakob didn't hesitate. He surged forward, tackling Harry to the floor. The two briefly wrestled before Jakob managed to straddle him, pinning him down.

With a snarl, Jakob drove his fist into Harry's face. The boy's already broken nose bent further under the blow, blood pouring freely. Jakob raised his fist again, aiming for the temple.

"You don't touch my family," Jakob growled through gritted teeth, his voice trembling with fury. His fist connected again, and Harry's eyes rolled back as he slumped unconscious. Jakob leaned in, his bloodied fist raising one more time.

"If you ever look at her like that again, Potter," he hissed, his voice shaking with rage, "I will kill-"

"Enough!" A voice thundered down the corridor. A spell hit Jakob from behind, and his body locked up before he was slammed against the wall. His wand clattered to the floor.

Standing in the doorway was a Hufflepuff prefect he recognized from the prefect's meeting last year—Gabriel Truman. The tall, broad-shouldered seventh-year was glaring at the chaotic aftermath.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Gabriel demanded, his eyes scanning the corridor. His gaze stopped on Jakob and Goyle, the only two left standing.

"They started it," Jakob said immediately, his voice steady despite his restrained position. He gestured toward the unconscious Gryffindors on the floor. "The Weasley boy tried to attack Draco, and I stepped in to defend him. Harry even used a spell on him."

Gabriel's sharp eyes focused on the trapped Slytherin. "Did you use any spells?"

Jakob, already anticipating this question, shook his head with practised calm. "I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school," he said evenly. "I did my best to protect my friends without it."

Gabriel's sceptical gaze shifted to Jakob's wand. "So, if I ask you to show me the last spell you cast?"

Jakob didn't hesitate. "It'll show you a levitation charm. I used it while packing my bags at the end of last year." It wasn't a complete lie; the last spell he cast was a levitation charm, though it had been that very morning.

Gabriel seemed to accept the explanation for now but remained wary. His suspicion turned toward Crabbe. "What about you? What happened?"

Crabbe puffed out his chest slightly, speaking in his usual blunt manner. "I was looking for Jakob when we saw the Gryffindors trying to attack him—and a first-year. We defended them."

Gabriel frowned, visibly confused. "A first-year?" His tone shifted, disbelief creeping into his voice.

"Here," came Crabbe's gruff voice as he stepped aside, revealing Ella, who was still huddled behind him. Her face was pale, her wide eyes darting nervously between Gabriel and the unconscious Gryffindors.

"You protected her?" Gabriel asked in surprise, looking between the burly Slytherin and the trembling girl.

"Yes," Crabbe replied firmly. "Someone had to make sure she wasn't hurt."

Gabriel straightened, the surprise evident on his face. In his seven years at Hogwarts, he'd never witnessed Slytherins in the role of protectors, let alone Gryffindors as aggressors. His expression softened as he crouched slightly, offering Ella a warm smile. "Hi there," he said gently. "My name is Gabriel, and I'm the Head Boy. Can you tell me what happened here?"

Ella hesitated, her gaze flickering to Jakob. At his barely perceptible nod, she turned back to Gabriel, reassured by his kind demeanour. "I-I was walking with him," she stammered, pointing towards Jake." "I was happy and… I accidentally bumped into the boy over there." She pointed at Harry, still lying unconscious on the floor. "And they got mad. Jakob and Draco dragged me back, and Vincent told me not to look, and then I heard shouting and angry voices."

Gabriel slowly nodded as she spoke, piecing the story together. His gaze returned to the Slytherins, lingering on Crabbe. The loyalty and restraint—if it could be called that—surprised him. For all the animosity between houses, this felt… unexpected.

He finally released the binding spell on Jakob, and the boy dropped to his feet with a controlled thud, flexing his shoulders as he regained his balance.

"Mr. Crabbe," Gabriel said after a pause, "you've earned twenty points for Slytherin—for your act of protection and loyalty to a first-year."

Crabbe's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, standing a little taller under the praise. It was perhaps the first time that the boy had come out as the hero in a situation.

Gabriel's expression hardened as he looked at the others. "As for the rest of you, I won't be awarding any points. The amount of brute force used here was far beyond necessary, even if you claim it was in Defense." His gaze briefly flicked to Jakob before turning back to survey the scene. "I'll be reporting this incident to Professor McGonagall. Let her decide what happens next."

Jakob said nothing, his expression neutral as he rubbed his wrists where the spell had held him. Inside, he smirked—half in amusement, half in relief. Whatever else Gabriel believed, the prefect hadn't pieced together everything, and Jakob intended to keep it that way.

"Ugh, it just had to be on my shift…" the Hufflepuff prefect sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before flicking his wand at Draco. "Finite."

Draco scrambled to his feet the moment the spell was lifted, brushing himself off furiously. "They attacked us!" he snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at the unconscious Gryffindors sprawled across the corridor.

Gabriel waved him off with a tired look. "I've heard enough, Malfoy."

Jakob, who had been watching silently, stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Draco's shoulder. "He knows what happened. Let's not waste more time here."

Draco hesitated but finally nodded. "Fine," he muttered, his usual arrogance returning as he shot a scowl at Harry's limp form.

Jakob gestured for the others. "Come on. Let's go." He began walking toward the back of the train, where the Slytherin carriages were located, his wand still in hand. As they moved, Jakob turned to Crabbe, his expression softening slightly. "Crabbe, thanks for keeping Ella safe back there," he said, his voice quieter.

Crabbe puffed out his chest a little, his broad face breaking into a grin. "No problem, Jakob. Someone had to.

Jakob nodded once. "Yeah. You did good." With that, they continued their walk, Crabbe looking slightly taller than before.

The group passed through the narrow corridors, Jakob noticing too late that their fight hadn't gone unnoticed. Students peeked through half-open compartments, their eyes wide with curiosity, excitement, or judgment. By the time they reached the Slytherin section, whispers had already travelled ahead, twisting and growing with each retelling: The Quade heir and Malfoy took down Potter and Weasley.

When Jakob slid open the door to the Slytherin train section—a larger, slightly more private area reserved for their house—the chatter inside came to a halt. All heads turned toward the dishevelled group as they stepped inside.

"What the hell happened to you?" Pansy demanded, jumping to her feet. Her sharp gaze darted between Draco's ruffled hair, Jakob's torn collar, and Ella's nervous stance.

Daphne rose as well, her brow furrowed as she approached Jakob. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice softer but insistent.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jakob said with a small wave of his hand, brushing it off like it was nothing.

"He and Draco knocked both Weasley and Potter out," Goyle interjected, grinning as he gestured at Jakob. The entire Slytherin section erupted into murmurs, some students gasping while others exchanged impressed looks.

Jakob could feel their eyes on him—some filled with awe, others with quiet curiosity. Goyle, however, was still staring at him, his expression slightly puzzled. "It's weird, though," Goyle said, tilting his head. "I could've sworn your jaw was red and your lip cracked after Potter punched you…"

Jakob blinked in mock surprise, his lips curling into a sly smile. "Huh, Potter punched me? I thought he just brushed past me on his way to the floor."

Laughter rippled through the Slytherin students, and even Goyle let out a sheepish chuckle, shrugging as his confusion melted away. The tension in the room eased as everyone sat down, their attention shifting to Ella, who still looked small and nervous amidst the group. The conversation soon turned to the fight. Draco took the lead in recounting the events, his voice growing more dramatic as he exaggerated for their eager audience.

"You should've seen him," Draco said, pointing at Jakob with a flourish. "Took on Potter like it was nothing, then decked Weasley hard enough to send him flying! And me, of course—I handled Ron's cowardly spell before he could do any real damage." He smirked, basking in the attention as laughter and impressed murmurs filled the space.

As the laughter swelled and the group settled into their usual rhythm, the door to the compartment slid open again. The energy in the room shifted instantly, the chatter dying away as Amy Frome and Damon Gosforth stepped inside.

"Quade, Malfoy, I just heard something from the Head Boy," Amy said, walking over to the group with her arms crossed. Her sharp eyes lingered on them briefly before her lips twisted into a sly smirk. "Did you two actually protect a first-year from the big, bad Gryffindors?"

Draco froze, visibly uncomfortable under Amy's gaze. He glanced at Jakob, silently pleading for him to handle the situation. Jakob stood, brushing off his robes, and offered a slight bow to both prefects.

"I'm afraid it's true, Miss Frome," Jakob said smoothly, his voice calm and measured. "Though I do hope the Head Boy also mentioned that it was, in fact, Mr. Crabbe here who did the protecting. The rest of us? We were just the wall."

"A wall?" snorted Damon Gosforth, his tone dripping with disdain. "You broke Potter's nose and gave him—and the Weasley boy—a concussion."

Jakob tilted his head slightly, studying Damon's expression. His tone was sharp, but there was something behind it—something personal. What's his problem?

"I didn't realize I'd made such an impression," Jakob replied lightly, ignoring the jab. "I do hope they'll recover soon."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Jakob had just taken the blame for what Draco had done to Weasley. As Draco opened his mouth to protest, Jakob shot him a quick warning glance. The message was clear: Don't say a word. Draco nodded and looked away, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Damon stepped closer to Jakob, his imposing frame now inches away. The mood in the compartment shifted, and the air grew tense. "You've been making too much noise in this house, Quade," Damon said quietly, his voice low and venomous. "And I've never liked you."

Jakob met Damon's stare with a cool smile. "Well, next time I think of doing something, I'll be sure to ask myself: Would Damon, the great prefect, approve?"

The comment barely left Jakob's mouth before Damon's fist slammed into his stomach. The force knocked the air from Jakob's lungs, filling the room with gasps. Students froze, wide-eyed, as Jakob stumbled slightly, clutching his midsection.

"That's enough, Damon," Amy snapped, stepping forward and glaring at the other prefect.

Damon turned his glare to Amy. "You will do well to know your place, Miss Frome. Is that clear?" he hissed, his tone challenging.

Jakob's sharp eyes caught a subtle shift in Amy's demeanour. Her fingers twitched briefly by her side, curling just enough to hint that she was restraining herself from attacking him. Her jaw tightened, but she didn't break her composure. Instead, she exhaled slowly, gave a stiff nod, and stepped back.

Damon's smile widened, clearly satisfied by her reaction. He turned his attention back to the raven-haired boy and stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Without warning, he slapped Jakob hard across the face. The sharp crack of the slap echoed through the compartment, silencing everyone. Though no one dared move, Jakob noticed five second-years exchanging glances, their wands twitching, ready to hex the man who had dared attack the heir of the ancient and noble House of Quade.

Damon rested a hand on Jakob's shoulder, his grip firm as he leaned in close. "Are you going to punch me back, Quade?" he whispered, his smirk taunting. "Go ahead. Give me a reason."

Every muscle in Jakob's body screamed for him to fight back. His fingers twitched toward his wand, and for a moment, he imagined it piercing Damon's skull. But then his gaze flicked to Amy. Her worried eyes met his, silently pleading with him not to act rashly. Instead, he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. A charming, deliberate smile spread across his face.

"I wouldn't dream of hurting you, Damon," Jakob said smoothly, his voice light and tinged with feigned confusion.

"That's right, you little shit," Damon hissed, leaning in so only Jakob could hear. "You might have power outside these walls, but here in Slytherin, you're my bitch."

Satisfied, Damon smirked, stepping back and turning on his heel. He strode out of the compartment without another word, his aura of smug authority trailing behind him.

Amy lingered for a moment, her sharp gaze flicking between Damon's retreating back and Jakob.

The younger teen gave her a small nod, silently assuring her he was fine. She hesitated, then nodded back and followed Damon out. Just before the door slid shut, she cast one last look, her expression unreadable.

Jakob sat back down, exhaling as he did. His friends were watching him with a mix of worry and barely contained anger. Ella, who was sitting beside him, wrapped her small hands tightly around his arm. Across from her, Draco's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Don't worry, guys," Jakob said with a grin, his tone light. "He hits like a Potter."

For a moment, the room was silent. Then, one by one, nervous chuckles rippled through the group. Slowly, the mood began to shift. The laughter grew louder as the Slytherins settled back into their usual rhythm, the earlier tension fading like a distant storm.

Jakob smiled along with them, his voice joining theirs as they joked and laughed.

But in the back of his mind, his thoughts were far from the levity in the room. Damon had crossed a line—and Jakob was already planning how he would make him pay.

The train screeched to a halt, and the platform came alive with the sounds of students disembarking. Jakob, Draco, and Pansy stepped into the cool evening air, the faint hum of chatter and clattering trunks surrounding them. Hagrid's booming voice called for the first years, and Ella hesitated as she looked back at Jakob. Her small hand waved tentatively.

Jakob softened, raising his hand in return, his usual composure giving way to a fleeting moment of warmth. She turned and joined the other first years, disappearing into the crowd as he turned toward Draco and Pansy.

The trio made their way through the bustling station to where the horseless carriages waited, their skeletal frames glinting faintly in the twilight. Jakob climbed into one, followed by Pansy and Draco. The door shut with a quiet click, sealing them in as the carriage began to move. The familiar creak of wheels on gravel accompanied their silence as they waited for the inevitable conversation to start.

Draco broke it first. "Mate, why did you tell him you knocked Weasley out? Everyone knows it was me."

Jakob sighed, leaning back into the worn seat. "Don't you think he already knows that?" he said, his tone measured. "Damon doesn't care who did what. He wants an excuse to drag as many of us into his mess as he can. If he gets one, he can justify whatever he has planned next. That's why I took the blame."

Draco frowned, clearly unconvinced. Jakob continued, his voice steady but firm. "We need to show unity, Draco. What Damon did to me is enough damage for now. If he humiliated you, the Malfoy heir, too, it would send a clear signal to everyone: both of us are fair game. We can't let that happen."

Draco's expression softened, his frown easing into reluctant understanding. "I see your point," he muttered, though he still looked troubled.

Pansy, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke up. Her tone was sharper than Draco's. "So we just let him get away with it?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "You're really going to sit back and let him hit you without hitting back?"

Jakob glanced at her, his irritation flickering through his otherwise calm exterior. "We're not doing anything—not yet. Gosforth is counting on me to retaliate. If I go after him now, it gives him exactly what he wants. A clean excuse to escalate things. And once that happens, we all lose."

Pansy crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. She wasn't satisfied. "You'd have done the same for us," she said quietly. "Let us help you. We can put that idiot in his place together."

Jakob exhaled, "Don't let our friendship cloud your thinking," he said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "First, I need to figure out why he despises me. If I don't understand that, I can't plan properly. I've got an idea, but I'll confirm it tonight."

Pansy bit her lip but stayed silent. Draco leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on Jakob. "You're sure about this?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Jakob gave a small nod. "I am."

The carriage gently rocked as it continued its journey, the soft creak of its wheels the only sound. Pansy and Draco exchanged glances, and though they both had more to say, they held their tongues. Jakob's logic, as usual, was hard to argue with.

When they reached the castle, the three Slytherins stepped out of the carriage in silence, the weight of their unspoken thoughts following them up the stone steps and into the Great Hall.

Jakob settled into his seat at the Slytherin table, flanked by Daphne on his right and Pansy on his left. His sharp gaze followed the line of nervous first years trickling into the Great Hall, their small frames and hesitant steps stirring faint memories of his own sorting ceremony just a year ago.

As the sorting began, Jakob's attention sharpened.

Among the crowd, he spotted Ella standing next to a blonde girl with a dreamy expression. The girl's serene demeanour was a striking contrast to Ella's visible nerves—her hands fidgeted with her robes, and her eyes darted around as though searching for reassurance.

Leaning slightly toward Daphne, Jakob lowered his voice. "Another Weasley," he muttered, nodding toward a red-haired girl among the group. "Any guesses on where she'll land?"

Daphne smirked, her tone dripping with mockery. "Gryffindor, obviously. Where else would another Weasley go?"

Moments later, the Weasley girl's name was called, and, as if on cue, the Sorting Hat barely grazed her head before shouting, "Gryffindor!" Jakob and Daphne exchanged knowing glances, rolling their eyes in unison as the redhead joined her brothers at the Gryffindor table to thunderous applause.

Jakob's focus returned to Ella, his amusement fading. His stomach tightened as he watched her waiting nervously, her face pale. If she's sorted into Slytherin, they'll eat her alive unless I watch her every second. And I don't have time for that. She can't end up here.

"Ella of House Quade," McGonagall called, her tone carrying a faint note of surprise. The hall fell silent as Ella stepped forward, her steps hesitant and unsure. Whispers rippled through the room, students murmuring about her name and glancing between Ella and Jakob.

Jakob barely noticed the murmurs. His eyes locked onto Ella, and he offered her a reassuring smile. For a moment, she hesitated, then returned the smile before turning back to the stool.

As the Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head, Jakob clenched his fists under the table, willing his thoughts to reach the hat. Not Slytherin. Not Slytherin.

A pause hung in the air before the Sorting Hat finally announced, "Ravenclaw!"

The hall erupted into applause, and Ella's relief was evident as she stood, glancing over at Jakob. His face broke into a proud smile as he clapped along with the others. She returned his smile, her steps more confident now as she made her way to the Ravenclaw table. The blonde girl she had stood beside was already waiting, her dreamy expression unchanged as Ella took a seat.

Jakob exhaled quietly, his tension easing. He watched as Ella settled in, surrounded by her new housemates. His thoughts lingered for a moment. She'll be safe there.

The sorting continued until the last student took their seat, and Dumbledore rose, commanding the attention of the entire hall. He spread his arms wide, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I trust your summers were filled with adventure, rest, and perhaps a bit of mischief."

Laughter rippled through the hall.

"I must remind you all," he continued, "that the Forbidden Forest is, as always, strictly off-limits. And to our first years: I assure you, the name is not a suggestion—it is a rule." His tone lightened, and more laughter followed.

Jakob barely registered the headmaster's voice echoing through the Great Hall, his attention fixed on a different matter entirely.

He glanced at Ella, who now seemed at ease among her new housemates. His gaze flicked briefly to the Gryffindor table, where Ivy whispered something to Harry, her fiery expression aimed squarely at him. They'll never leave this alone.

"And finally, it is my pleasure to announce that Professor Gilderoy Lockhart will be joining us as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor."

Jakob snapped back, biting back a smirk as murmurs swept through the room. At the staff table, Lockhart stood, his pearly-white smile gleaming as he gave a theatrical wave.

"That's going to be a disaster," Daphne muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing at Lockhart.

"No argument here," Jakob replied, smirking slightly.

As the feast began, Jakob joined the chatter around him, though his mind stayed partially elsewhere. While he spoke with Daphne, he noticed movement in his periphery. Draco was approaching, his expression unusually subdued.

Draco leaned down, his voice low. "Sorry about Ella, but Ravenclaw's a good second, right?"

Jakob nodded, his tone casual. "Thanks, mate. Honestly, I don't think she was ever Slytherin material."

Draco offered a faint smile before returning to his seat.

Jakob's attention drifted to the Gryffindor table, where three pairs of eyes glared at him with open hostility. Harry, Ron, and Ivy all seemed ready to launch themselves across the room.

Jakob raised his goblet in their direction, his smirk deliberate, mocking. He tilted it slightly as if toasting their failure. Ron's face turned a deep shade of red, and he began to rise, but Hermione's hand shot out, pulling him back down.

Her gaze flicked briefly towards her Slytherin friend, And her lips curled into an almost imperceptible smile.

Jakob leaned back in his seat, feeling satisfied. The tension from earlier had eased as the feast continued, with students laughing and chatting around him. Yet, his mind remained sharp, shifting its focus between allies, enemies, and the challenges that this year would bring.

A few hours later, the Slytherins began to rise from their seats, gathering in small groups as they made their way toward the exit of the Great Hall. Jakob followed the rest of the snakes, his sharp gaze scanning the crowd out of habit.

As they reached the doorway, a voice rang out behind him, cutting through the chatter.

"Jake! Jake!"

The Slytherin turned, his expression softening as he spotted Ella hurrying toward him. Her small frame darted through the crowd with unexpected agility and determination, her blonde Ravenclaw friend following closely behind.

"Jakob," Ella said brightly, her eyes shining. She gestured toward the girl beside her. "This is Luna Lovegood. Luna, this is Jakob—Heir of House Quade and my best friend."

Luna tilted her head slightly, her wide, dreamy eyes studying Jakob as if seeing something no one else could. "Hello, heir Quade," she said, her voice light and ethereal. "I've heard so much about you. From Ella here."

Jakob frowned slightly, casting Ella a brief, puzzled glance before addressing the odd girl. "You only just met her."

"Yes, you're right," Luna said, unfazed. Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she turned her gaze upward, her attention caught by the enchanted ceiling. "Oh, wow… that's beautiful."

Jakob blinked, caught off guard by her sudden shift in focus. He turned to Ella instead, a genuine smile softening his usually guarded features. "You'll do great in Ravenclaw, Ella. And if anyone gives you trouble, you come to me, alright?"

Ella nodded, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though she might throw her arms around Jakob in an embrace. But his words echoed in her mind: at school, they had to keep their affection hidden. Such displays could be seen as a weakness that others might exploit. She stopped herself just in time, letting her hands fall back to her sides and replacing the impulse with a warm smile. "I will, I promise," she said softly.

Jakob caught her movement, and a small, approving yet sympathetic smile briefly appeared before he gave her a nod. His green eyes shifted to Luna, who remained fixated on the ceiling, her serene expression unchanged.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Lovegood." She nodded absently as if the sentiment had already been acknowledged.

Ella waved as Jakob turned and rejoined the Slytherins, his posture straight and confident. As he walked away with his friends, the faintest hint of a smile lingered on his face. For now, Ella was safe—and that was all that mattered.

The group of second-year Slytherins descended the stone staircase and stepped into their common room, the familiar green glow of the underwater lake casting flickering shadows across the walls.

Amy stood near the fireplace, addressing the new first years alongside another older Slytherin.

Jakob's eyes lingered on the pair, and for a moment, the memory of his own first night in Slytherin resurfaced. He could still recall how Amy had made Tracey Davis a bloody example, her actions solidifying the rules of the house.

Lingering near the back, the second-year Slytherin adopted a relaxed posture, leaning casually against the wall. Though he seemed indifferent, he wasn't there to refresh himself on the rules. He was waiting for something specific.

"Remember," Amy said, her voice clear and commanding," you can always turn to the Slytherin Five."

Her eyes flicked to Jakob briefly, a subtle warning or acknowledgement—he wasn't sure which.

"And if the problem is urgent," she continued, her tone sharpening, "you can talk to the King."

Jakob's stomach dropped. King? His eyes darted to the back of the room as Damon emerged from the private Slytherin Five quarters. The word "Queen" on the door had been replaced, now changed to "King" in bold lettering.

Damon strode forward, his expression of smug satisfaction, every step deliberate. He stopped between Amy and the other Slytherin, turning his gaze toward the gathered students. His presence exuded authority, but the undercurrent was clear—fear was his weapon.

"I am here to help you all," Damon began, his voice deceptively calm. Then, his tone darkened, and his sharp eyes swept across the room. "But make no mistake. Cross me—or the Slytherin Five—and we will destroy you."

The last words hung heavy in the air, pointed and deliberate as Damon's gaze locked onto Jakob. A flicker of a smirk touched the king's lips as if daring Jakob to react.

The younger teen's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, keeping his expression neutral. So, my suspicion was right. Damon doesn't just want control—he wants submission. And he's starting with me, the one he thinks doesn't follow the rules.

Jakob's eyes shifted briefly to Amy, who was already returning to the first years, directing them toward their sleeping quarters. Her face was unreadable, though Jakob could tell she was aware of Damon's subtle power play.

He glanced toward the familiar couches near the fire, where Draco and the rest of their group had taken their usual spots. Jakob made his way over, sitting down beside Tracey and Theo, their quiet conversation momentarily pausing as he joined them.

"Trouble already?" Theo muttered, his tone low, though a slight smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Jakob shrugged, leaning back against the cushions. "Just took a look at our new king. An interesting choice."

Theo raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. The group fell into their usual rhythm, the tension from Damon's theatrics fading into the background.

The evening passed uneventfully. Jakob spent time chatting with the second-year Slytherins, keeping his thoughts on Damon to himself. When the room began to quiet, and students started drifting to their dormitories, Jakob rose.

"I'm calling it a night," he said to no one in particular.

Pansy stood as well, brushing an invisible wrinkle from her skirt. "Me too. I'm tired."

Jakob nodded, and the two walked together toward the dormitory staircase, the soft hum of the common room fading behind them.

When they reached their door, Pansy stepped forward and pushed it open. Jakob, following close behind, turned to quietly shut it behind them. The soft click of the latch echoed in the still room.

As Jakob turned, she moved swiftly, closing the distance between them in an instant. Before he could react, her arms enveloped him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The force of it pushed him back against the door with a soft thud.

Jakob had expected the hug. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment. For the first time that day, he felt grounded and complete as he held her tightly, letting the day's tension fade away.

After a while, he gently pulled away, his hands lingering on her shoulders. His lips curled into a faint smile as he looked at her. "It's good to see you too, Pansy."

But Pansy wasn't ready to let go just yet. She stepped forward again, hugging him once more, her arms tightening around him.

This time, she held on for a few seconds longer before speaking, her voice quieter now.

"I hate this. I hate that we can't have things like they were in Egypt. That I have to ignore you, and you have to do the same."

Jakob's expression softened, and he let out a quiet sigh. "I know," he said, gently prying himself free and meeting her eyes. "But it's necessary. It won't always be like this. For now, we need to play it smart."

Pansy held his gaze momentarily, searching for something in his expression. Then, with a reluctant nod, she stepped back. "At least tonight, we don't have to pretend."

Jakob gave her a small smile. "Exactly."

Pansy turned her attention to the parchment pinned to the wall—a familiar sight by now. Jakob's eyes followed hers, though he didn't comment.

"Home, sweet home," she said and walked inside the bathroom.

As Jakob waited for his roommate to finish in the bathroom, he wandered over to his newly purchased enchanted chest. Setting it on the floor, he opened the flap and stepped inside. The bag's interior expanded into a compact, hall-like space, its enchanted design revealing three distinct paths leading to separate rooms.

The third path led to his laboratory—a practical setup for brewing potions and conducting experiments. Shelves lined one wall, stocked with jars of ingredients he had carefully collected or brought, each labelled in his precise handwriting. Another shelf was crammed with potion-making manuals and alchemical tomes. In the centre of the room stood a sturdy table with three cauldrons—small, medium, and large—and a set of burners neatly arranged alongside various tools. The space was functional but cramped, suitable only for simple brews until he found a way to expand it further. Even so, it felt like a space of possibility, a small haven for his private crafting.

The second path led to a modest living room. Jakob hadn't fully decided what to do with it yet, so he had filled the walls with bookshelves, stacking them with tomes from the Quade family library. In the centre of the room stood a single armchair, its dark fabric slightly worn but comfortable, positioned beneath a magical light embedded in the ceiling. The soft glow illuminated the space, creating a quiet atmosphere perfect for studying or simply gathering his thoughts.

Jakob took the first path, which led to his personal quarters. The room was simple, dominated by a large, neatly made bed. On it lay Saliza, her sleek, dark scales glinting faintly in the soft light as she slept peacefully, her breathing slow and steady. He paused in the doorway, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

As Jakob stepped into the room, Saliza stirred from her place on the bed. Her sleek body was lazily uncoiled before she lifted her head and hissed, her emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"Finally, you arrive."

Jakob smiled at her impatience and extended an arm. "I had to wait until I got inside my room. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice a soft hiss, "but I'm starving. I want to hunt in that forest you told me about."

Jakob chuckled, running a finger along her smooth, dark scales. "In a hurry to get away from me, are you?"

Saliza slithered up his arm and coiled herself loosely around his shoulders, her head resting against his cheek. "I will return soon," she said, her tone softening, "but I'm hungry."

Jakob nodded, hissing gently, "When you do, your place will be ready."

With that, he walked back out into the hall. Pansy's faint movements in the bathroom echoed through the quiet space as Jakob approached the window. He pushed it open, the cool night air rushing in.

"Remember," Jakob hissed to Saliza as he adjusted the window, "this is our spot. It'll be open when you return."

Saliza flicked her tongue in acknowledgement before slithering out. Jakob watched her lithe form scale down the side of the building, vanishing into the shadowy expanse of the Forbidden Forest below.

He stood by the window for a moment, the faint sounds of the castle settling around him. Then Pansy stepped out of the bathroom, gesturing toward him with a mock-serious expression. "Your turn,"

He gave her a nod and headed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

As Jakob changed into his pyjama shorts, he heard faint muttering and the sound of something shifting outside. He frowned, pausing for a moment before resuming brushing his teeth. Once finished, he stepped out of the bathroom—and stopped at the sight before him.

Pansy had been busy.

Their nightstands had been moved to the corners of the room, the bed curtains and the wooden posts supporting them had been removed, and their two beds had been combined into what now resembled a queen-sized double bed. Curtains hung neatly at either end, and Pansy sat in the middle, her face glowing with pride.

"How long have you been planning this?" Jakob asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Ever since we said goodbye after Egypt," Pansy admitted, her smile widening. "I knew it was possible, and I planned everything ahead. What do you think?"

Jakob crossed his arms, glancing at the newly created bed. "Impressive. But will it hold when I tackle you and tickle you until you cry?"

Pansy's expression faltered, her feigned sternness betrayed by the nervous laugh that slipped out. "Jakob, stop. You know I hate that."

He grinned, shifting his stance slightly, his intent clear. "Oh, do you?"

"Jake," Pansy warned, holding up a hand as if it could stop him. "I mean it—I'll—"

She didn't finish her sentence before Jakob lunged at her. They tumbled onto the bed, wrestling as Pansy tried valiantly to resist, but Jakob's strength eventually overpowered her. Pinning her down, he began his assault, his fingers finding all the spots that made her laugh uncontrollably.

"Stop! Stop!" she wheezed between screams of laughter, her legs kicking as she tried to twist away. "I admit defeat! I admit it!"

Jakob finally relented, releasing her with a satisfied smirk. As he turned to climb out of bed, her voice stopped him.

"Jakob?"

He turned just in time to see a pillow flying straight at him. Smack! It collided with his face, sending him stumbling backwards. One bounce off the bed later, he hit the floor with a loud thud.

"Jakob! Oh shit, are you okay?" Pansy's panic was immediate as she scrambled off the bed and rushed to his side.

"Jakob! Oh shit, are you okay?" Pansy's panic was immediate as she scrambled off the bed and rushed to the edge where he had fallen.

"I'm so sorry! I was only joking!" she said quickly, leaning over the edge of the bed. But instead of Jakob sprawled on the floor, there was… nothing. The space was empty.

Pansy frowned, confusion knitting her brow. "Jakob?" she called out cautiously.

Before she could react further, she felt movement behind her. Two strong arms suddenly wrapped around her stomach, lifting her into the air. "Jakob!" she screamed, legs flailing as he hoisted her up with ease.

With a laugh, Jakob spun and dropped her backwards onto the bed. Pansy bounced against the mattress, trying to hold back her own laughter, but the ridiculousness of the moment betrayed her.

Jakob collapsed beside her, clutching his stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. "You… should've seen… your face!" he wheezed, his breath hitching between fits of laughter. "It hurts—oh my stomach, it hurts! Cant laugh it hurts more," he managed to choke out, wiping tears from his eyes.

"You idiot!" Pansy yelled, though her words lacked bite. She hit him lightly on the arm, trying to suppress her smile. "I thought you were dead!"

Jakob laughed even harder, turning onto his side to dodge her playful swats. Seeing his unrestrained joy, Pansy couldn't hold on any longer; she collapsed onto the bed beside him, laughing despite herself. The day's tension melted away for a moment, replaced by the pure, simple happiness of shared laughter.

When they had finished settling in, Jakob transfigured a small opening in the wall for Saliza to slither through when she returned. Satisfied, he climbed into the bed, where Pansy was already waiting. She lay curled against him, using his arm as a pillow, her dark hair spilling over his shoulder.

"Jakob," she said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, "Damon. What do you think he really wants?"

Jakob stared at the ceiling for a moment, his expression unreadable. "He wants me to fall in line," he said finally, his voice calm but cold. "To bow when he walks past."

Pansy frowned, shifting slightly to look up at him. "Why would he do what he did on the train if that's all it is?"

"Because he knows I won't," Jakob replied, turning his head to meet her gaze. "He knows I won't bow, won't follow his rules, won't give him what he wants."

Pansy studied him, her expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. "What are you going to do then?" she asked softly.

Jakob's lips curled into a sharp smile.

"I'm going to rip him apart.

---

The following day was a Sunday, and Jakob was up bright and early, careful not to disturb Saliza or Pansy as they continued to sleep. Quietly, he gathered his enchanted bag and slipped out of room 13.

The Slytherin common room was unusually silent, the usual buzz of chatter replaced by the soft echo of his footsteps. Jakob scanned the room, hoping Amy might already be there—he had questions for her—but it was empty.

Undeterred, he headed toward his classroom on the sixth floor. As he climbed the stairs and walked the familiar hallways, the castle's stillness reminded him that most students would still be tucked away in their beds.

Reaching room 6D, Jakob pushed the door open. A faint layer of dust had settled on the room during the summer break. The desks and chairs were stacked neatly in the corner, and the space smelled faintly of parchment and wood polish.

Jakob frowned at the dust, then waved his wand, sending a flurry of cleaning spells around the room. In minutes, the surfaces gleamed, and the air felt fresher.

Satisfied, the Slytherin opened his bag and stepped inside. He pulled out a large rolled-up mat he had carefully measured for the room.

Unrolling the mat across the floor, he tapped it lightly with his wand. The fabric shimmered briefly before blending seamlessly into the stone, camouflaging the ground beneath. Originally designed for Aurors to create hidden traps, the mat gave the illusion of solid ground while concealing what lay underneath. With a single spell, Jakob could reveal the intricate carvings etched into the classroom floor or reset the mat, erasing all traces.

It was a cautious, perhaps paranoid, solution. He wasn't sure if the teachers would allow him to keep using the ritual classroom for his after-class activities if they discovered what he was doing, and the Slytherin wasn't eager to switch to another space.

Next, he walked to room 6E, gathering desks and chairs for his visitors. He arranged them in neat rows of four-by-four. "Sixteen should be enough," he muttered, adjusting the final desk into place. He stepped back to inspect the setup, nodding to himself. It was orderly, practical, and functional.

Jakob then opened his bag again and began pulling out paintings. He had spent time over the summer selecting these carefully, knowing the room lacked windows.

Each painting depicted a different part of the world, enchanted to mimic the view from an actual window. He hung a few along the walls: a serene lake with sparkling waters, a bustling Parisian street at dusk, and his personal favourite—the Amazon rainforest. The painting of the jungle was particularly vivid; a jaguar occasionally prowled into view, leaping onto a branch with its prey before disappearing into the thick foliage.

Finally, he retrieved a desk from room 6F and placed it at the front. He pulled out a chair he had charmed from his bag for extra comfort and positioned it behind the desk. He sat down, leaning back as he surveyed the space.

The classroom had transformed from a dusty, forgotten room into something functional and welcoming. Jakob's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile as he nodded to himself. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was a solid start.

After finishing the classroom, Jakob moved to his office. The room was cluttered with books, jars, and ingredients he had no intention of using. With a sigh, the teenager began gathering the unnecessary items, muttering to himself about the chaos left behind. Once there was a decent pile, he walked to the window, opened it wide, and unceremoniously began tossing the junk out.

The satisfying crash of glass breaking echoed from below, followed shortly by faint yelling.

Jakob paused and frowned as he leaned out the window, squinting below. Two small figures stood outside, waving their arms and shouting indistinctly. He tilted his head, attempting to make out the colours of their house, but they were too far away to identify.

Still holding a jar in his hand, Jakob raised it to the window, pointing it downward as though lining up a shot. He measured carefully, ignoring the increasingly frantic yelling from below. One of the dots yelled something about a dare, but he didn't care. Jakob released the jar.

It plummeted, spinning through the air. The two dots scattered in opposite directions, and the jar shattered harmlessly against the ground. Jakob frowned slightly, then shrugged. Reaching for another jar, he repeated the process, lining it up with precision before letting it fall. Precision before letting it fall.

By the third jar, Jakob was beginning to enjoy himself. The figures darted about like ants, narrowly avoiding each drop. He dropped another jar, but this time, one of the figures raised their wand, and with a sharp flick, a spell shot toward the jar. It exploded mid-air in a bright burst of light.

Jakob blinked, mildly impressed. "Not bad," he muttered, resting his elbow on the windowsill.

What the tiny figure hadn't anticipated, however, was the fallout. Shards of glass and traces of dangerous ingredients scattered in the air. The explosion's shockwave sent the second figure stumbling back while the debris showered the spell-caster. A high-pitched scream of pain echoed up to the Slytherin as the figure waved its arms frantically, seemingly covered in a noxious, bubbling substance.

Jakob winced, tilting his head slightly. "Ouch. That's gotta hurt." He observed the situation for a moment longer. The injured figure struggled to shake off the mess while their companion frantically cast cleaning spells, which, unfortunately, did not seem to work.

After a minute or two, he glanced at the pile next to him and shrugged. "Well, that was the last jar anyway." Without another word, he calmly closed the window, shutting out the chaos below.

With the "target practice" over, Jakob returned to his office and resumed cleaning. When the last jar was placed in its proper spot and the room was spotless, he surveyed his work with a nod of approval. "Efficient," he murmured to himself before walking out.

Jakob stepped back into his classroom, tapping his wand on the enchanted stone mat. The carpet shimmered briefly before vanishing, revealing the intricate carvings etched into the floor beneath. He crouched, running his fingers over the markings, inspecting them carefully. Satisfied, he tapped the space again with his wand, and the mat reappeared seamlessly, camouflaging the ground again.

"Good," he murmured to himself, standing. With one last glance around the room, he turned and walked out. The classroom was ready.

---

The lone teenager's stomach gave a faint grumble, reminding him he'd missed breakfast, but he ignored it. Instead, he let his feet carry him aimlessly through the castle and beyond, leaving his destination up to chance.

For a fleeting moment, he considered heading into the Forbidden Forest—it was tempting. Still, his thoughts shifted when he saw Hagrid's hut in the distance. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, a sign that the half-giant was home.

"Couldn't hurt to talk with the half-blood," Jakob mumbled, adjusting his pace toward the hut.

He strolled down the sloping lawn, his steps unhurried. Reaching the oversized wooden door, he climbed the stairs, paused momentarily, and knocked firmly.

"Just a minute!" Hagrid's booming voice echoed from within. Jakob stood patiently, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing absently at the surrounding grounds.

The door creaked open moments later, revealing the half-giant's towering frame.

Hagrid's expression shifted from surprise to mild suspicion as he opened the door. "Well, hello there, Quade," he said cautiously. "What can I do for ya?"

Jakob gave a slight bow. "Hello, Hagrid. I was out for a walk after tidying up my classroom and thought I'd pay you a visit—if you're not too busy, of course."

Hagrid's bushy eyebrows shot up in surprise. After a brief moment of hesitation, he stepped aside and gestured for his unexpected visitor to come in.

Jakob stepped into the cosy, cluttered hut, his sharp eyes flicking briefly over the assortment of odd trinkets and tools scattered about. Hagrid motioned to an oversized armchair near the fireplace, and the teen took a seat, settling into it with effortless grace.

"So," Hagrid began awkwardly, his large hands fiddling with a nearby teapot, "ya mentioned a classroom? You a teacher now, Quade?" He chuckled lightly, the idea clearly amusing to him.

Jakob's lips curved into his signature charming smile. "Not quite, Hagrid. I've started a club where, alongside Granger, I'll be helping first- and second-year students with their homework twice a week."

Hagrid's chuckle abruptly stopped. His eyes widened in surprise as he turned to face the boy. "Granger? You mean Hermione Granger?"

Jakob nodded, his charming smile softening into something more genuine. "Yes, Hermione Granger." He glanced out of the window, noticing Hagrid's suspicion begin to ease as he spoke. "She's exceptionally bright, wouldn't you agree? I may have topped my year, but she wasn't far behind."

Hagrid, whose expression had begun to relax, suddenly tensed as a thought appeared to cross his mind. His brows knitted together, his confusion deepening as he scratched his head, his large hand ruffling his wild hair. "No disrespect, Quade—none at all—but, uh… yeh do know she's a Muggle-born, righ'?"

Jakob raised an eyebrow, his expression cool and unaffected. "Yes, I'm well aware."

Hagrid flushed, realizing the implication of his words. He fidgeted in his seat, his large hands nervously smoothing the armrest. "Didn't mean any harm by it, lad," he muttered, clearly embarrassed.

The Slytherin waved a hand dismissively. "It's quite alright, Hagrid. I know you meant no offense. But I'm not like many of my Slytherin peers. If I see someone with potential—someone like Granger—I won't be blinded by outdated pureblood notions. I'll do my best to nurture that potential and help it grow."

Jakob paused, his gaze meeting Hagrid's directly. "And Granger, more than most, deserves that chance. Don't you agree?"

What he didn't say out loud but thought as he spoke was To ensure that potential becomes loyal to me. The Slytherin kept his expression carefully neutral, revealing nothing of his true intentions.

Hagrid seemed to melt at Jakob's declaration. The fireplace's warm glow in the corner reflected the tears forming in the half-giant's eyes, and a bright smile spread across his face. "Aye… that… that's a good way to think, Jakob. A real good way."

The man stood, brushing his hands on his apron. "Would ya like some tea, Quade?"

Jakob inclined his head, his voice smooth. "Please, Hagrid. And when I'm your guest, call me Jakob."

Hagrid nodded, clearly pleased, and turned to fetch the tea. Jakob leaned back slightly, his gaze following the man. "One more thing, Hagrid," he added casually. "Would you mind keeping this little chat between just you and me? Only you and Hermione know my true thoughts on this matter. Some… like my Slytherin friends, might not understand my reasoning."

Hagrid, who was halfway through reaching for the kettle hanging above the fire, paused momentarily and nodded. "Aye, Jakob," he said earnestly, his voice steady. "Not a word to anyone."

Jakob's lips curled into a faint smile, and he gave a small nod of acknowledgement. A thought flickered through his mind as he watched Hagrid carefully pour the tea. Interesting. A few carefully chosen words and the man holding the keys to the castle already trust me.

As Hagrid passed the oversized teacup into Jakob's hands, a sudden knock echoed through the cabin, followed by the door opening.

"Hagrid, how are you? It's so good to—why in the bloody hell is he here?" Ron's voice rang out, filled with angry, horrified shock.

The Slytherin turned in his seat, his expression calm and composed as his gaze met the sharp glares of Harry, Ron, and Ivy. Hermione stood slightly apart in the doorway, her face momentarily lighting up with surprise and a hint of happiness before she quickly masked it.

"Hello," he said smoothly, gesturing toward Hagrid. "I was just having tea with Hagrid here."

The half-giant shifted awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with Ron's sudden outburst.

"Ron, yeh oughta mind yer manners," Hagrid said, his deep voice carrying a hint of reproach. "Jakob here's just bein' polite—no need ter be rude, now, is there?"

Ron blinked, clearly taken aback that Hagrid was defending a Slytherin.

"Jakob? Since when—" Ivy began, her confusion mirroring that of the other Gryffindors. But before she could finish, the Weasley boy cut her off.

"Hagrid, you can't be serious about letting him in here," Ron said heatedly, jabbing a finger in Jakob's direction. "He attacked us on the train!"

Hagrid's eyes shifted to Jakob, an unspoken question in his gaze.

Jakob placed the teacup down with deliberate care, his calm demeanour unwavering. "Firstly," he said evenly, his tone measured, "I was protecting a first-year. And secondly, I only Drove my knee into your guts because you tried to attack my friend first. I simply did what Mr. Potter here would do without hesitation if one of you were in danger—or am I mistaken?"

"What? Protect a first-year?" Hagrid echoed, his brows furrowing as he glanced toward Harry, seeking some sort of confirmation or explanation.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, Jakob stood, his movements deliberate as he smoothed his robes. "No need to dwell on it," he said, his tone polite yet edged with finality. "I don't hold long grudges, and I trust we can let the incident stay in the past." He glanced around the room with a faint smile. "Besides, I think I've overstayed my welcome."

Jakob turned to Hagrid, inclining his head in a slight bow. "Thank you for your time and the tea, Hagrid. It was truly enjoyable."

Hagrid hesitated for a moment, his large hand scratching the back of his neck, before nodding with a small, apologetic smile. "Aye, take care, Jakob."

As Jakob approached the door, his eyes caught Hermione's. Her lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smile threatening to break through her guarded expression.

He stopped beside her at the exit, tilting his head just enough to meet her gaze directly.

"Miss Granger I've set up classroom 6D for our after-school club activities. If you'd like to take a look before Tuesday, I'd be happy to give you a quick tour and go over some of the preparations as well."

The cabin fell into a stunned silence, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound. Harry, Ron, and Ivy stared at Jakob, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and shock.

Hermione blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Um, yeah. I'd like that. Thanks," she murmured, her voice quiet as her gaze dropped, avoiding the Slytherin's eyes, afraid her cheeks might betray her with a blush.

Jakob offered a final slight bow before striding past them and stepping outside, his pace steady as he made his way toward the castle.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, breaking the silence. "I thought he was going to say something nasty to you, Hermione."

Ivy rolled her eyes at the redheaded boy's comment. "Ron, we already know that He doesn't hate Hermione. He's never shared the same views as the other snakes about Muggle-borns."

Ron huffed. "Yeah, but it's weird, innit? One minute he's Slytherin reborn, and the next, he's talking to Hermione like he's her bloody friend."

Ivy's voice sharpened. "When has Quade ever been rude to her? Not even in front of his own father."

Harry, however, kept his glare fixed in the direction the Slytherin had disappeared. His jaw tightened as he muttered, "Whatever. He's still a prick."

Jakob spent the rest of Sunday with his friends, the day passing in its usual rhythm. But as evening fell and he lay in bed, his mind lingered on Amy's absence. He hadn't seen her since they arrived at Hogwarts, and it gnawed at him.

---

Monday morning arrived, bringing with it their first session in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Jakob, who had deliberately chosen a seat at the very back of the classroom, knew the lesson would be… interesting. Draco and the rest of his friends had opted to sit closer to the front, leaving Jakob seated beside Millicent Bulstrode, who also seemed less than enthusiastic about the new professor.

"Ah, are you all here? Excellent!" Gilderoy Lockhart strode out of his office, his golden hair gleaming under the enchanted classroom lights. His dazzling smile radiated across the room as if he were posing for a portrait.

As Lockhart launched his self-congratulatory opening speech, Jakob leaned back in his chair, his gaze drifting out the window. He had already grown tired of the man. Jakob had read through the professor's assigned books. The more he studied them, the clearer it became that even the sections containing actual magical theory were, at best, rudimentary—and, at worst, pure fabrication.

"And that's how I both saved the prime minister and created a new type of wand," Lockhart concluded, beaming as though he'd delivered groundbreaking news. "But enough about me. We're here for you! And to begin, we'll start with a quiz—to assess what knowledge you already possess and what I might assist you with."

With a theatrical wave of his wand, Lockhart sent a stack of papers fluttering around the room. Jakob caught one as it landed on his desk and glanced at it. His brow furrowed in disbelief as he scanned the questions:

"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?"

"Name the date of Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement."

"How many times has Gilderoy Lockhart won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award?"

Jakob stifled a groan and turned to Millicent, who sat beside him. She was glaring at the paper with a look of pure disgust.

"What… The bloody hell is this?" Millicent hissed, keeping her voice low. "This isn't a quiz—it's a bloody biography exam."

Jakob smirked, nudging her with his elbow. "Careful, Bulstrode, or you'll get zero points for the 'admiration' section."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Because that's what I aspire to—scoring points on Lockhart's ego trip."

Jakob snorted, leaning closer. "I mean, we're Slytherins. Manipulating egos is kind of our thing."

"Not for him. I'd rather kiss a Blast-Ended Skrewt than feed that man's self-obsession," Millicent muttered, glancing up briefly to make sure Lockhart wasn't looking their way. "You think he even knows any real defensive spells?"

Jakob shrugged lazily. "If he does, he's saving them for his next memoir."

Millicent snorted, her lips curling into a familiar sneer. "Figures."

Lockhart's voice boomed from the front of the room, pulling their attention back. "Remember, students, no peeking at your neighbor's quiz! It's important to be honest about how much—or how little—you know about your dear professor!"

Jakob and Millicent exchanged a glance, their expressions perfectly deadpan.

As the quiz began, the room filled with the sound of quills scratching against parchment. Jakob scanned the absurd questions on his paper, his irritation mounting with each one.

"What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?"

This is ridiculous, Jakob thought, but after a moment's hesitation, he scribbled down lilac.

By the time the quiz was over and the papers were collected, Jakob leaned back in his chair, silently hoping the ordeal was behind him. Unfortunately, that hope was dashed as Lockhart began flipping through the answers at the front of the room. His face fell further with each paper.

"How can this be?" Lockhart exclaimed, his voice tinged with melodramatic disbelief. "Have none of you read my books? Mr. Potter," he continued, his eyes narrowing at Harry, "I would have expected better from you. Surely you, of all people, would know these things. After all, we are quite similar."

From the back of the room, Jakob let out a quiet snort, unable to suppress his amusement. Both Harry and Lockhart turned to glare at him, though Jakob met their gazes with an expression of feigned innocence.

Lockhart straightened his robes and focused on the Slytherin, but now his tone was colder. "Well, Mr. Quade, I wouldn't be so quick to judge Mr. Potter's quiz, considering…"

He trailed off as he retrieved Jakob's paper and began flipping through it. His eyes widened, and he even turned the paper over, glancing at the answers scrawled on the back.

"Aha!" Lockhart exclaimed, his smile returning in full force. "It seems we have a true fan among us! Well done, Mr. Quade—ten points to Slytherin for answering every question correctly!"

Jakob's smug expression faltered as Lockhart continued. "And as a special reward, Mr. Quade, you will have the honor of joining me tomorrow night in my classroom to assist with answering fan mail!"

The entire room went silent momentarily, and Jakob's horrified expression only deepened the awkward pause. Around the classroom, reactions varied. Harry and Ron exchanged smirks, barely suppressing their laughter. At the same time, some students openly glared at Jakob, envious of what they perceived as favouritism.

Jakob slumped slightly in his seat, the weight of his "reward" sinking in. Beside him, Millicent whispered, barely hiding her amusement, "Don't worry, Quade. I hear writing fan mail builds character."

Jakob shot her a sidelong glare. "Remind me to thank you for your support later," he muttered dryly.

From the front, Lockhart beamed obliviously. "Wonderful enthusiasm! Now, let's move on to the practical portion of today's lesson!"

With a dramatic flourish, Lockhart stepped behind his desk and hoisted a covered object into view. It rattled ominously, the sound barely audible over the chatter of the class. Undeterred by the lack of attention, the professor drew his wand and cleared his throat with exaggerated authority.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he declared, puffing out his chest. "Some of the darkest creatures I've faced in my outstanding career reside in this very cage. Now, I must insist—no screaming! It will provoke them!"

Jakob exchanged a sceptical glance with Draco, seated in the front row. Across the room, Pansy stifled a giggle behind her hand, and even Theo raised an eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between mockery and curiosity.

Lockhart dramatically whipped the cover away. A cage filled with pixies was revealed, their translucent wings beating furiously as they darted and flapped in frustration. Their sharp teeth snapped audibly as they clawed at the confines, eager for freedom.

The classroom erupted in laughter. Even Jakob allowed himself a faint chuckle, his usual formal mask slipping momentarily.

"You might laugh now," he said, his voice brimming with self-satisfaction. "But let's see what you make of them when they're free!"

Before anyone could react, Lockhart unlocked the cage and swung the door open theatrically. The pixies exploded outward in a blur of chaos and colour, filling the room with screeches and the sound of flapping wings. Students screamed as the tiny creatures dive-bombed them, tugging at hair, snatching quills, and toppling inkpots onto parchment.

Jakob ducked as a particularly aggressive pixie whizzed past, catching the edge of his robe in its claws. With a sharp tug and a slap across the pixie's face, he freed himself, his expression darkening. Nearby, Theo was locked in a losing battle with a pixie trying to wrestle his bag away.

Lockhart, meanwhile, had clambered onto his desk, flailing his wand ineffectively in the air. "Now, now! Control yourselves! This is merely a practical demonstration!" he shouted, though his voice betrayed more panic than confidence.

Now realizing his mistake, Lockhart raised his wand, attempting to regain control. But before he could utter a single spell, a particularly nimble blue pixie swooped down and snatched it from his hand. His mouth opened, but no words followed as he stood there, his expression teetering between disbelief and fear.

Without another word, Lockhart bolted and disappeared into his office.

Chaos reigned in the classroom as students scattered. Jakob remained seated, watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and mild irritation.

His eyes fell on the Potters, Weasley, and Granger among the chaos. Unlike the others, they had drawn their wands and attempted to fight back.

His attention lingered on Neville Longbottom, who flailed helplessly as the pixie dangled him by the ears. The boy's panicked kicks and wild-eyed terror presented a spectacle Jakob found almost comical.

"Impressive," Jakob drawled, raising an eyebrow at the scene.

He reached for his wand, unhurried by the chaos around him. A quick flick and the knockback jinx flew—not toward the pixies, but towards Harry Potter.

The spell hit its mark, striking the golden boy in the back and sending him stumbling forward into a desk.

Ron spun around, wand drawn, his face contorted with anger. "Who did that?" he barked, his gaze darting around the room. But when his eyes landed on the spot he thought the attack had come from, there was no one there—just a chaotic swirl of pixies and fleeing students.

Jakob, already out of the classroom, strolled the corridors of Hogwarts. His hands rested in his pockets, his wand tucked away. Whistling a jovial tune, he felt an unusual sense of satisfaction. Today had turned out far more entertaining than expected.

---

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. After dinner, Jakob made his way to his new classroom, the quiet halls of Hogwarts echoing softly with his footsteps. When he reached the door, he paused, frowning. The locking charm he'd cast earlier—and the secondary spell he'd set to alert him if the door was opened—were gone.

Taking out his wand, he opened the door cautiously, his mind racing through possibilities. Had someone broken in? Trashed the place? Left already?

"Hello?" Jakob called as he stepped inside. The room was intact, just as he'd left it. The lights were already on, their warm glow illuminating the space.

"I was wondering when you'd finally arrive," a familiar voice said. Jakob turned sharply to see Amy Frome leaning casually against the far wall. She straightened as the door closed behind him, her wand flicking to lock it with a soft click.

Jakob's brow furrowed. "I've been looking for you," he said, putting his wand away. His gaze lingered on her face—it was different tonight. The usual playful smile was absent, replaced by something far more serious.

"What's happened?" he asked, concern creeping into his tone.

Amy stepped forward, her eyes softening. "I need your help with something," she said quietly, giving him a tired smile. Her wand swished again, reinforcing the locking charm on the door.

"With what?" Jakob pressed, his frown deepening. He studied her carefully, waiting for her to explain. "You've told me before—no one helps anyone in Slytherin."

Amy stopped just a step away from him, her expression softening further. Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she leaned in, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

Jakob froze for a moment, startled by the unexpected affection. But before she could pull away, his instincts kicked in. He reached out, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together. They stood like that for a moment, the day's tension dissolving into something more intimate.

And then they kissed—slowly at first, their movements careful, as if testing the boundary they'd set for themselves. But the hesitation melted away, replaced by a shared urgency. Their embrace deepened, time slipping into something immeasurable—moments that felt both endless and fleeting all at once.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against one another. Jakob's hands lingered on her waist while hers rested lightly on his chest.

Amy smirked, her voice low and teasing. "I told you… we can't do that anymore."

Jakob grinned, his tone equally playful. "I know," he said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. "I'll keep that in mind next time I kiss you."

Her smile widened, the sternness from earlier fading completely.

"What do you need?" Jakob asked, his frown deepening.

"It's Damon," Amy said, her voice laced with frustration. "Apparently, he was chosen with three votes against two. Since then, he's grown more power-hungry—acting rash and stupid. It's not befitting of a Snake King."

Jakob scoffed, shaking his head as he sat down on one of the benches. "Why did they choose him to rule? Are they stupid? I'm a second year, and even I can see he's not fit for the role."

Amy let out a relieved sigh and nodded. "I've been trying to talk with the Slytherin Five and others who hold sway in our house, but they're either too scared to act or convinced a firm hand is what we need after Diana's leadership last year."

Jakob rolled his eyes. "Firm? He's not firm—he's an idiot," His eyes narrowed as he observed Amy. "So, what's your plan?"

The older Slytherin pulled out a chair, sat down in front of him, and dragged her fingers through her curls in frustration. "I tried reasoning with him. I thought if I spoke to him directly, I could make him see reason. Instead, he left that conversation and marched straight to your compartment to make you an example of what happens to anyone who opposes him."

Jakob smirked faintly, though his eyes gleamed with a sharper edge. "Yeah, I haven't forgotten about that. He'll get what's coming to him."

Amy's expression shifted, worry replacing her frustration. "Jakob, I'm serious. If Damon continues this way, he'll destroy what Slytherin stands for. In just a day, he's severed ties with the other prefects and the Head Boy. He's openly punishing his own housemates—not just you. I fear what kind of damage he'll cause over the next two years if this continues."

Jakob's smirk faded, his brow furrowing. "Won't the professors do anything? What about Snape?"

Amy shook her head, her mouth pulling into a grim smile. "Snape knows about the Slytherin hierarchy—it's a long-standing tradition going back to Salazar's time. But he won't interfere. He believes we need to govern ourselves."

Jakob leaned back, rubbing his temple. "So, we're screwed?"

Amy hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the floor before meeting his again. "There's one thing we could do," she said slowly. "But it's hard. It won't be done in a single night, and the aftermath… it's hard to predict."

Jakob leaned forward slightly, gesturing for her to continue. "What is it?"

Amy hesitated again, biting her lip before speaking. "Jakob, if I tell you this, you have to swear that it doesn't leave this room. Whether you agree or not—you cannot repeat it."

Jakob studied her, his sharp eyes noticing something he rarely saw in her: desperation. After a beat, he nodded. "You have my word."

"I never imagined I'd be asking a 14-year-old for help," Amy snorted, a hint of self-disappointment lacing her words.

Sensing the weight of the conversation dragging on, Jakob stepped closer and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. His tone was sharp, cutting through her hesitation. "Just tell me what it is."

Amy hesitated for a second, then exhaled deeply. "I… I need your help getting rid of him and placing me on the throne."

Jakob released her and sat down again, his piercing gaze studying her intently. "I figured as much," he said coolly. "Do you think it will work? What do the rules say about overthrowing a current King or Queen?"

"It's forbidden," Amy replied, her voice low. "As long as the current King or Queen rules, they can't be replaced."

"So…" Jakob began, his mind working through the implications. Then his eyes narrowed, meeting hers. "We have to end his time here at Hogwarts entirely?"

Amy nodded, her expression weary. "We could try the usual route—dig up something to blackmail him with. But that could take months, even if we're lucky."

Jakob tilted his head. "Or we create an… accident. Something that forces him to leave and makes him unable to return."

Amy's expression was grim, but she nodded again.

Jakob leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Are you sure you'll be able to take the throne once he's gone? What if someone else steps up?"

"They won't," Amy said firmly, her confidence unwavering. "I'll rule. No one else has the strength or influence to challenge me."

Jakob studied her, weighing her determination. Then, predictably, he asked the question Amy had been expecting all along.

"What's in it for me?"

Amy stood and moved closer, taking his hand in hers. Her voice was steady, her gaze latching onto his. "There's never been a second-year allowed to join the Slytherin Five. If you help me, Jakob, I'll make sure you take my seat. You'll sit beside me for the next two years."

Jakob leaned back, his gaze still fixed on Amy. He knew this was the only power she could offer him—there wasn't anything else he needed. After a moment of thought, he looked at her with a calculating expression.

"If I agree to help you," he began, his tone calm but firm, "I want you to end your ambition to go after him. You'll need someone by your side as a witness, someone who can vouch that you had no hand in what happens to Damon."

Amy frowned, her confusion evident. "Why?"

Jakob stood, pacing slowly as he pieced together his plan. Amy watched him intently, sensing the wheels turning in his mind.

"If you're going to take his place, they need to believe you're completely uninvolved in whatever happens to Damon. You can't afford even a whisper of suspicion. So, whatever you've been doing to undermine him—stop it. Now. I'll take care of him."

Amy moved closer, standing just behind him. "Jakob," she said, her voice laced with concern, "you can't take him on by yourself. He's a sixth-year. He knows more spells, has more experience, and is stronger than you."

Jakob nodded slightly, acknowledging her point. "Yes. But how I do it doesn't matter. What matters is that you stay out of it. If you want me to agree, these are my terms."

Amy hesitated, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she weighed his words. Finally, after a long moment, she exhaled. "Fine. But don't do anything stupid and get yourself killed, alright?"

Jakob turned to face her, his sharp green eyes meeting hers. A small, confident smile tugged at his lips. "I'll try."

They kissed once more before pulling apart. Jakob adjusted his robes and turned to leave. "Wait fifteen minutes before you go," he instructed.

Amy nodded, her eyes lingering on him as he disappeared through the door.

Left alone in the silence of the room, Amy felt a gnawing unease settle in her chest. She stared at the spot where he'd stood moments ago, her hands gripping the edge of the desk.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "Why does it feel like I've just sent him to his death?"

Jakob descended the stairs, his footsteps light against the stone steps in the stillness of the corridor. His mind worked quickly, weighing possibilities and formulating plans when a sudden, hard impact struck him in the back.

The spell's force drove him forward, his balance faltering as he tumbled down the last few steps before crashing onto the cold, unyielding floor. The air rushed from his lungs, leaving him gasping as pain shot through his body.

His wand slipped from his hand, skittering across the floor and landing out of reach.

His vision swam, the dim hallway spinning as he forced his head up. Through the haze, three shadowy figures emerged, their forms silhouetted against the faint light. Their voices were low and hurried.

"What are you doing? That wasn't a stunner?"

"I don't give a fuck, he had it coming."

Before he could react or gather his strength, a boot struck his face with brutal force. His head snapped back against the stone, the impact sending a fresh wave of pain through his skull.

The world tilted and dimmed, pain giving way to numbness as the edges of his vision faded. Darkness enveloped him, pulling him under as his consciousness slipped away.