Warning: This chapter contains themes of kidnapping, death, and other dark elements. If you've made it this far into my story, none of this should come as a surprise.
I've received reviews and messages from people saying things no one should ever hear, simply because they don't like my fic.
I understand if you're not a fan of the story, whether it's because the main character feels "too dark" or for some other reason. But you don't need to tell me that—especially not by insulting me or calling my characters and story "shit." The easiest solution is simple: stop reading. This fic clearly isn't for you.
Oh, and just a heads-up: this chapter is split into two parts (a 20,000-word chapter felt a bit excessive), so I'll be posting the next chapter tomorrow.
Cheers!
Chapter 28. Kidnapped, revenge and afterschool activity.
"Wake up!"
Cold water hit Jakob like a slap, the icy shock tearing him from unconsciousness. He gasped, sputtering for air as the freezing sensation clung to his skin. Harsh, mocking laughter rang out, the distinct voices making it clear there were three tormentors.
"Rise and shine, you pathetic little worm," one of the boys taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. The water jet stopped abruptly, leaving the second-year drenched and shivering, water pooling around the chair in a growing puddle.
Jakob blinked, his eyes struggling to adjust to the faint light in the room. The cold air seemed to amplify the icy water clinging to his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Slowly, he glanced around, trying to piece together where he was. The surroundings suggested an abandoned classroom, one he didn't recognise.
Broken desks were strewn across the floor in disarray, their jagged legs sticking out like the limbs of wounded creatures. A thick coat of dust blanketed every surface, untouched for what seemed like years—perhaps even decades.
One of the two sources of light in the room came from the faint glow of a Lumos spell, the light emanating from the tip of the wand held by the boy on the left. Jakob recognised him as Finnius, an upper year he'd seen before. The glow cast sharp shadows across his narrow face, accentuating his thin, hunched frame. His messy light brown hair fell just above his eyebrows, and his pale skin took on a sickly hue in the dim light. He shifted nervously, his lips pressed into a tight line as though trying to appear composed but failing miserably.
Standing in the middle was Crow, the tallest of the group, with broad shoulders and an air of self-importance. His dark blond hair was neatly combed back, and his square jaw gave him a sturdy, almost mature look. Yet there was something in the way he stood—rigid, perhaps overcompensating—that betrayed his unease.
On the far right stood Berrow, his expression carefully blank, giving away nothing. His wavy black hair fell just above his ears, framing his slightly flushed face. He was broader than the others but not as tall as Crow, his clean-cut features and faint smirk suggesting a more relaxed confidence. Unlike the others, he seemed at ease, his posture loose and almost casual.
Beyond the three, a slightly ajar door let slivers of torchlight from the corridor seep into the room, its flickering glow struggling to cut through the darkness inside.
Jakob's sharp green eyes locked onto the trio before him, the Slytherin crest on their robes gleaming faintly in the dim light. As his vision sharpened, his expression settled into a humourless smirk.
"Ah, Crow, Finnius, and Berrow," Jakob drawled, his voice rasping with disdain. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this pathetic excuse for a kidnapping?"
Finnius's smirk faltered, his confidence slipping as he shot a nervous glance at the boy in the middle.
"Finnius," Crow said, his voice edged with irritation, "don't tell me you forgot to hit him with the Conjunctivitis Curse." His glare was sharp, and Finnius shrank slightly under its weight.
Jakob coughed, clearing his throat to draw their attention. "Clearly not," he said, his smirk widening with mock amusement. "Does your brilliance always leave your victims speechless with awe?"
"Teach him some manners," Crow said coldly, nodding toward Berrow. Without hesitation, Berrow raised his wand and muttered an incantation. A stream of water shot toward Jakob, dousing him once again. But this time, it didn't stop.
Jakob jerked his head to the side, then the other, struggling to catch a breath. The relentless jet of water followed his movements, forcing him to inhale sharply and sputter as water filled his mouth and nose. He twisted against his restraints, gasping for air, but the attack continued mercilessly. Just as the burning in his chest became unbearable, the stream finally ceased, leaving him coughing violently.
The three boys didn't seem to care that Jakob was coughing up water, his mind already racing with thoughts of the most brutal ways to exact revenge. Instead, their focus remained on each other as they hurled accusations. Finnius, his nervous energy barely contained, turned sharply to Crow, jabbing his wand in Berrow's direction. "I thought Darius was supposed to handle it," with a defensive tone.
"Don't try to blame me for your screw-up, you idiot!" Berrow snapped, his shoulders tensing as he squared up to Finnius, his grip tightening on his wand like he was ready to strike.
Jakob leaned back against the chair as much as his bindings would allow, subtly testing the restraints that held his arms behind him. His sharp green eyes flicked between the three older boys, his expression betraying neither frustration nor fear.
"As much as I'd love to watch you three bicker like toddlers," Jakob cut in smoothly, his tone dripping with calm mockery, "perhaps one of you could enlighten me as to why I've been dragged here in the first place."
He paused, letting his words hang in the air, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. Then, his voice shifted—still casual but carrying a sharper edge, an unsettling confidence. "So… now that I've had the pleasure of seeing your faces, you've got two options. Either you untie me and let me walk out of here, or you go ahead with whatever pathetic excuse for a plan this is. Your call."
The three boys exchanged uncertain glances, momentarily caught off guard by Jakob's boldness. Standing in the middle, Crow gripped his wand tighter, his knuckles paling as he stepped forward. His chin lifted in an attempt to exude authority, but the faint hesitation in his stride betrayed his unease.
"You don't tell us what to do, Quade," Crow sneered, his voice tightening as he tried to mask his uncertainty. "If you knew what was coming, you wouldn't be sitting there so smugly."
Jakob resisted the urge to roll his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint, almost mocking smirk.
"Positively terrified," he said smoothly, his voice calm but with an unmistakable edge. Tilting his head slightly, he let his expression settle one of amusement, though his sharp gaze remained locked on Crow. "And I see you know my last name. Must take a special kind of bravery—or stupidity—to target the heir of House Quade, fully aware of what will happen if you don't let me go."
Finnius, who had already looked uneasy, now seemed on the verge of panic after Jakob's last statement. His wide eyes flicked toward Berrow, searching for some kind of reassurance, but Berrow only shifted awkwardly on his feet, his gaze sliding nervously to Crow.
"We just wanted to send you a message from Damon," Finnius blurted, his words rushing out as he stepped forward. The tension in his voice cracked, betraying the pressure that had clearly gotten to him.
"Stop talking, you idiot!" Crow hissed, grabbing Finnius by the arm and shoving him back with a glare sharp enough to silence him. "He's trying to manipulate the situation!"
Jakob's smirk widened, his sharp green eyes gleaming with interest. "Ah, so it's Damon who sent you? Well then, I'm listening. Tell me his message."
"You weren't supposed to tell him it was Damon, you absolute moron," Berrow muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to keep his frustration in check.
Crow turned sharply, his expression a volatile mix of frustration and panic. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes was unmistakable—a dangerous combination that threatened to spiral into rash, impulsive actions.
Before another word could be spoken, Crow took a sudden step forward and drove his foot into Jakob's chest. The force sent both Jakob and the chair crashing backwards, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Gasping, Jakob fought to steady his breathing, his green eyes narrowing as they fixed on Crow's wand, now gripped tightly in his hand. The faint tremble at the tip betrayed the anger—or hesitation—coursing through him.
"If you turn that wand on me," Jakob rasped, his voice rough as he struggled to draw in air, "you won't receive any mercy from the House of Quade, Mr. Crow."
"Crucio!" Crow bellowed, his voice trembling with rage as the tip of his wand flared with a fiery red light before the curse burst forth, surging toward Jakob with unrelenting force.
Jakob's world exploded in agony. It wasn't just pain—it was a firestorm searing through every nerve, twisting his body in ways he couldn't control. His muscles convulsed violently, and it felt as though his skin was being flayed from the inside out, layer by agonising layer. Every breath was a desperate, jagged gasp, his vision blurring with white-hot flashes of torment.
Just as abruptly as it had started, the pain vanished, leaving him shaking and gasping for air. Berrow had shoved Crow, the impact knocking him off balance and breaking his focus on the curse.
"What the hell are you doing?" Berrow shouted, his voice rising in panic. "You're going to get us thrown into Azkaban, and it'll all be your fault!"
"The three Slytherins stared at Jakob, his body lying still except for the occasional, uncontrollable jerks, his silence unnerving them all.
"You think that's all that's going to happen?" Crow snapped, his voice rising with desperation. "He's a Quade! They'll destroy us just for tying him up. If that little shit tells anyone about this, we're as good as dead!"
The third boy, Finnius, who had already looked on the verge of breaking when the curse struck the second year, now seemed utterly shattered. His head jerked side to side as though he were trying to deny the reality of what they had done. Jakob could see the dread consuming him, creeping through him like a slow-spreading infection. For a fleeting moment, Finnius's gaze met Jakob's, and in his eyes, he caught a flash of sorrow.
"I... I'm sorry. I didn't know it would go this far..." Finnius stammered, his voice barely audible before he turned and bolted for the door. He slammed it open with a loud crack and disappeared into the corridor without looking back.
"Come back, you fucking coward!" Crow yelled after his supposed friend. Berrow, who felt the same gnawing urge to flee, knew it wouldn't change the inevitable outcome. Instead, he began pacing back and forth.
"We could make him forget?" Berrow suggested hesitantly, his eyes darting toward Jakob.
"Oh, brilliant idea! Do you happen to know any memory charms?" Crow said, his mock cheer poorly masking his irritation. "Because if we scramble his brain—or, I don't know, kill him—they'll figure it out in seconds and come straight for us," he snapped frustratedly.
"Why don't you come up with something then?" Berrow demanded, his tone sharp and accusatory as he glared at Crow.
Crow's gaze shifted back to Jakob, and then, for a moment, something flickered in his eyes—a spark of cruel inspiration.
"We could leave him here," Crow said, his voice low, almost pleased with himself for coming up with the idea. "The castle's too big for anyone to find him in time, and when they do... he won't be talking." His tone carried a twisted satisfaction, as though this plan could neatly solve all their problems.
Berrow glanced at Jakob, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. In Berrow's conflicted expression, Jakob could see the turmoil within him—a silent battle between his conscience and his fear.
This was it. If Jakob was going to tip the scales in his favour, to create even the smallest chance for survival, it had to be now.
"If you do what's right," Jakob rasped, his voice strained but steady, "I will forgive."
"He doesn't need your forgiveness, you insolent little—" Crow snarled, raising his wand in fury. But before he could cast anything, Berrow grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-motion. Berrow's gaze stayed fixed on Jakob, his expression unreadable.
"Let's go," Berrow said firmly, his voice flat but carrying a note of finality. "You're right. No one will find him, and we'll be free of this. Damon will be pleased."
Crow hesitated, his wand still raised, before giving a sharp nod. The answer seemed to satisfy him. Without another word, he lowered his wand and turned to leave, Berrow following close behind.
Berrow didn't look back, but Jakob caught it—the hesitation, the guilt etched into every step. What they had done here... It wasn't something the sixth-year ever imagined himself doing, and it showed in the rigid way he moved, as though weighed down by his own actions. They
Left through the opened door, leaving Jakob alone.
The door clicked shut behind them, plunging the room into darkness. Through the heavy wood, Jakob caught the muffled sound of Crow's voice. "Silence the room and lock it," he ordered sharply.
Berrow's response came quieter but clear enough to make Jakob's chest tighten. "I'll do it. Just go—I'll catch up to you in the common room. We can't be seen together."
Jakob listened as one pair of footsteps retreated down the corridor, fading into the distance. The oppressive silence returned, and he exhaled slowly, the reality of his situation sinking in like a lead weight. Escaping wasn't going to be easy.
Before he could even mutter a curse at the older students in the darkness, the door creaked open slightly, letting in a sliver of pale light. The second pair of footsteps disappeared down the hallway, leaving Jakob alone once more.
"Well, isn't he kind," the still-tied-up boy muttered with a dry snort.
Jakob strained against the ropes, binding his arms and legs to the chair. He pulled and twisted, but the knots held firm, biting into his skin with every futile attempt.
"Shit!" he hissed, giving up with a frustrated sigh. He leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling.
Suddenly, the door creaked slightly. Jakob raised his head toward the cracked opening, the sliver of light widening just enough to catch his attention. He held his breath, every muscle tense, hoping against reason for some kind of miracle.
"My youngling, in yet another mess, I see," hissed a familiar voice from the cracked door. The tone was sharp, almost scolding, yet unmistakably familiar, drawing Jakob's attention immediately.
A dark shadow slipped through the narrow opening, her sleek black scales catching the faint streak of light that cut through the darkness, gleaming with a subtle shimmer as she moved.
The door shifted slightly under her weight as she pushed it further ajar, her long, fluid movements purposeful and unhurried. "Saliza?" Jakob rasped, his voice hoarse, relief mixing with confusion.
Jakob craned his neck toward her as the snake slithered fully into the room, coiling near the base of the tipped-over chair, her red eyes glowing faintly and her tongue flicking in and out.
She tilted her head slightly, an almost human gesture that could have been curiosity or exasperation—it was always hard for him to tell.
"You reek of blood and desperation," she hissed, her tone carrying the faintest hint of amusement.
She moved closer, her body brushing gently against his leg as she inspected him further. "What trouble have you managed to find yourself in now? And please tell me this isn't one of those human... mating rituals."
Jakob let out a strained chuckle, his lips curling faintly despite the soreness in his chest. "Oh, nothing much," he replied weakly. "Just tied up and left for dead. How did you find me?"
Saliza coiled near Jakob's legs, her dark eyes fixed on the rope as she inspected it. "Your scent led me here," she hissed softly. "It began where I found your blood splattered on some stairs and the ground. Not far from there, I found your wand. You leave a trail, Jakob, one I can follow." Her voice carried a note of amusement. "Knowing your unhealthy attachment to that stick, I knew you wouldn't be far. Your blood and their mistakes made the rest easy."
Jakob raised an eyebrow. "You found my wand? Where is it now?"
The midnight-black snake, her mouth just opening as she leaned back to strike at the ropes, paused mid-motion. "I brought it to your roommate," she hissed. "The noisy one. She followed me. She should be nearby."
Jakob exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as Saliza worked methodically at the ropes. Her sharp teeth tore through the fibres with unwavering precision.
"Note to self," he muttered with a hint of dry humour. "Never again doubt your loyalty, Saliza."
The rope gave way, and Jakob flexed his stiff wrists. He was just about to stand when the door creaked open wider. Pansy entered the room cautiously, her wand gripped tightly in one hand while holding Jakob's wand in the other. She squinted in the dark, her gaze settling on him, and her expression shifted from worry to visible relief.
"Jake!" she whispered, lowering her wand as she hurried over to him. "No one could find you, and everyone's been asking if I knew where you were."
Jakob offered a weary smile as he stood, brushing off the remnants of dust and frayed rope from his robes. "Well, here I am. Thanks to Saliza. She's been far more helpful than I deserve."
He gave his loyal snake a genuine smile, but Pansy's earlier words echoed in his mind. His expression shifted as he frowned slightly. "Hold on, Pansy—who's 'everyone'?"
The girl flustered from her hurried arrival, took a deep breath, attempting to collect herself. "Everyone, as in Draco, Daphne, Tracey—"
"No one from the upper years?" Jakob interrupted, his brow furrowing slightly.
Pansy hesitated, her brow knitting in thought. "No, not really. Everyone knew you hadn't been seen for hours, but when people started whispering that the Gryffindors might have gotten to you for payback after the train... Damon just said you'd turn up eventually. Still, it was strange. Jakob, what happened to you? Why are you wet and covered in dirt?"
Jakob dismissed her concern with a sharp wave of his hand, his expression unreadable. "It's nothing. Listen, I need you to do something for me."
Pansy tilted her head, watching him warily, but Jakob pressed on. "Go back to the Slytherin common room. Do you know who Darius Berrow is? Sixth year?"
She frowned, uncertainty flickering across her face. "Yeah… I think so. Why do you want me to—"
"Find him in the common room," Jakob interrupted, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"Make sure no one else sees you talking to him. Tell him discreetly that someone is waiting for him in the second-floor lavatory. Don't make a scene. Just pass on the message. Can you handle that?"
Pansy hesitated for a fraction of a second, her gaze flickering with doubt. Then she nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"And one more thing," Jakob added, his voice slightly dropping as he stepped closer. "Tell everyone you saw me resting in my bed. Say that I didn't want to be disturbed. Make sure they believe it."
Pansy blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden request, but quickly regained her composure. "Alright," she said softly, her voice quieter now.
Jakob's face softened, but only for a moment. "Good. I'll tell you everything when I'm finished."
Pansy gave a final nod, her expression tight with unspoken resolve. She turned sharply, her robes whispering against the cold stone floor as she moved.
At the threshold of the corridor, she paused, her dark eyes flicking back to Jakob's face, lingering for a moment as though searching for something unspoken. Then, without another word, she disappeared into the hallway. Jakob remained still, his gaze fixed on the empty space where she had stood. A quiet sigh escaped him. She would have worried if she knew—if she truly understood what he was about to do.
A low hiss broke the silence, drawing his attention. "Tell me, youngling," she hissed with a hint of amusement, "what are we about to do?"
Jakob met her piercing red gaze, his expression resolute. "What we must."
His fingers tightened briefly around the hilt of his wand. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he murmured, "We've got work to do."
Jakob Quade stood in the second-floor girls' lavatory, adjusting a stray lock of hair in the fractured mirror above the sink.
"I hope Pansy hasn't landed herself in trouble," he muttered impatiently. His gaze flicked toward the door before returning to the mirror. "Berrow should have been here by now."
"She knows what's at stake," Saliza hissed, her tone coiled with confidence. "And so does he. Your visitor will come, Jakob. Prey always finds its way into a trap."
Jakob nodded faintly, allowing himself a brief smile, "She's more than capable," he said, though the uneven rhythm of his fingers tapping against the cold porcelain betrayed his impatience.
Waiting was a skill he prided himself on, but tonight, it felt harder to hold his composure. He couldn't let frustration take root—not now, when so much depended on it.
Saliza shifted against his forearm, the smooth side of her black scales cooling his skin as she slithered upwards and lightly coiled herself around his neck, her tongue flicking against his cheek. Jakob exhaled, his fingers gradually stilling as he accepted the comfort she offered.
"Calm yourself, my youngling," she hissed softly. "Don't let your primal emotions take hold."
Jakob's grip on the porcelain edge tightened, his voice sharp as a blade. "They bound me to a chair," he hissed, his emerald eyes darkening. "They used the Cruciatus curse on me."
Saliza, attuned to the quickening of his pulse, Coiled herself closer. "I can rip. I can tear," she hissed, her tongue flickering near his ear. "Say the word."
Jakob closed his eyes briefly, breathing through the frustration that clawed at his control. Even as the thought of unleashing Saliza flickered in his mind, he knew he couldn't. Not yet. His fingers stilled, the anger receding as he forced calm back into place. "Thank you, Saliza," he said evenly. "But we have bigger prey to catch."
From outside, the sound of unsure footsteps reached his ears. A sly smirk formed on his lips. "Never doubt Pansy," he muttered. He nodded toward a stall. "You can't be seen."
Saliza uncoiled herself without hesitation, her midnight-black form slipping into the shadows.
Jakob straightened, his shoulders squared as his focus locked on the door, his smirk never wavering.
The door creaked open. A faint glow spilt into the room, casting long shadows across the cracked tiles.
"Hello?" Berrow's voice was tentative, the Lumos at the tip of his wand illuminating his uncertain expression as he stepped into the dimly lit lavatory.
Jakob's smirk widened as he leaned casually against the sink. "I see you got my message. Good."
Berrow hesitated before stepping closer, his wand lowering as he approached. His expression flickered between regret and fear.
"Listen," he began, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened earlier. I swear, I never would've gone along with it if I knew what Crow was planning. Damon just told us to scare you, to... to get you in line."
For a moment, Jakob remained motionless, his smirk fading into a hardened expression. His emerald eyes darkened, his jaw tightening with restrained tension. His fingers twitched slightly at his side before he took a deliberate step forward, the sharp click of his polished shoes echoing crisply against the tiles.
"You're either ignorant," Jakob hissed, his voice low and sharp, "or complete idiot to think you could attack the heir of House Quade."
His hand shot out, delivering a sharp backhand to Berrow's face. The sixth-year staggered back, one foot slipping as he struggled to regain his balance.
Jakob watched, unmoving, as a red flush bloomed on Darius' cheek.
"I'm sorry!" Berrow pleaded, his voice trembling as he sank lower. "I tried to stop him... I... I even helped you! You said you'd forgive me!"
Jakob stared down at him, his expression cold. Then, calmly, he tilted his head, a faint, humourless smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Helped me?" Jakob's voice was quiet, but the venom beneath the words was unmistakable. "Remind me, Mr Berrow, how exactly did you help me?"
Berrow's words came out in a frantic rush. "I told him to stop! He was about to cast the Crusiatus curse again and I stopped him. I... I didn't charm the door shut. I left it open so you could escape!"
For a heartbeat, Jakob didn't move. Then, in a single, fluid motion, his hand grabbed Berrow's collar. "You left me for dead!" Jakob's roar echoed through the empty lavatory as he drove his fist into the sixth-year's face.
Berrow crumpled back onto his knees, his cheek flushed and swelling, blood seeping from a split lip. He winced but didn't dare raise his hands to defend himself. He stayed there, his eyes fixed on Jakob with a mix of terror and pleading.
Jakob pulled his wand from his robes and pressed it hard against the older boy's neck.
"Did you help me," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom, "or did you help yourself?"
Darius didn't answer. His breathing quickened, his chest rising and falling in a heavier rhythm as panic tightened its grip. He squeezed his eyes shut, his lips trembling faintly.
Jakob's jaw tightened. The memory of pain. The memory of humiliation. The memory of shame.
The urge to curse him, to make him scream, ran through him like fire through his veins.
With a slow, steadying breath, he reined in his fraying control. A thin smile crept across his lips as he slid his wand away and reached down, seizing Berrow by the collar and hauling him to his feet.
His hands moved with unsettling calm, brushing imaginary dirt from the boy's shoulders.
"I did say thay I would help you, didn't I? Well, I do appreciate it," Jakob said, his tone light, almost mocking. His sharp gaze bore into Berrow. "Tell me, what do you think will happen to you if word gets out about this?"
Berrow gulped, his head bowing as shame dragged his eyes to the floor.
"We... we'd be imprisoned for using the curse on you," he muttered, barely audible.
Jakob's smirk widened, a hollow laugh slipping past his lips. He tilted his head, watching the confusion flicker across Berrow's face like a predator sizing up its prey.
"No," Jakob began, his voice soft yet laced with venom, "that's what happens if you attack someone beneath me."
He let the pause linger, relishing Berrow's growing discomfort before continuing in a low tone. "Let me tell you what will happen. My father—and the Malfoy head of house—will start with everyone in your home. Your mother. Your father. Everyone you hold dear. They'll make sure they disappear from all the records, no one will know of their existence. But not before you watch them die."
Berrow's face drained of colour, his breath catching as Jakob's words pressed down like a suffocating weight.
"I've seen it before," Jakob said, his smirk hardening into something colder, deadlier. "What my father does to people who try to steal a few galleons from him... it isn't quick, Berrow. And this? Using the Cruciatus Curse on me? Leaving me for dead in some filthy, abandoned classroom? Oh, I imagine his creativity would know no bounds."
Berrow's knees threatened to buckle beneath him, his breath hitching as he grasped the full weight of his mistake.
"Please," he stammered, desperation cracking his voice. "I helped you! You said you'd forgive me. It—it was Crow's fault, not mine—"
"Oh, I know exactly whose fault it is." Jakob interrupted with a feral look in his eyes that made Berrow flinch. "I just want to make sure you understand what's waiting for you if you don't follow me now."
Tears welled in Berrow's eyes, spilling over as he gave a trembling nod, his throat too tight to respond.
"You did well," Jakob continued, with a nod of approval weaving through the statement. "That's why I'll spare you the punishment your friend's are owed. But don't think for a moment you're free from me."
"Anything," Berrow whispered, a spark of desperate hope flickering in his gaze. "I'll do anything."
Jakob's smile thinned, devoid of any warmth. "Here's what you're going to do. Go back to Crow and tell him Damon wants to meet in the Forbidden Forest. Make it sound like a reward—for both of you."
His voice dropped, each word precise and steady. "Walk into the forest with him. Count fifty steps. Then, stun him. Leave him there and walk away. Don't speak of this to anyone. Do you understand?"
Berrow nodded, his movements jerky, fear etched into every line of his face. "Yes," he muttered, barely audible.
Jakob tilted his head slightly, his sharp green eyes narrowing. "Repeat the plan," he said, his tone unnervingly calm. Yet nothing about it offered any comfort to the boy standing before him.
Berrow hesitated only for a second before he began. His words tumbled out in fragmented sentences, each one more unsteady than the last as he scrambled to recall the details.
Jakob said nothing as Berrow stammered on, his expression an impassive, icy mask. Only the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed any reaction. When Berrow finally stumbled to the end of his explanation, Jakob gave a single nod.
"Good," he said at last, his voice flat and devoid of any reassurance.
Berrow lingered, awkward and unsure, his gaze flickering between the door and Jakob. The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable, until Jakob tilted his head, his sharp gaze locking on the older boy, his expression dripping with silent judgment—as if questioning whether Berrow was truly that dense.
"When do you want me to do it?" Berrow asked hesitantly.
Jakob's hand shot up in a blur. "Now!" he barked, his palm striking Berrow's face with a resounding crack. The sharp sound echoed in the room as Berrow staggered back, clutching his cheek.
Berrow nodded frantically, not daring to say another word, and bolted for the door. His rapid, uneven footsteps faded into the distance as he disappeared down the hall.
Jakob perched himself on the edge of one of the sinks, exhaling a long sigh as the door clicked shut behind him.
"Truly an idiot. And I was kidnapped by him..." Jakob muttered with a sigh.
From the shadows, Saliza slithered into view, her sleek form coiling as she raised her head, her tongue flickering.
"The most dangerous predator in the forest is often attacked by lesser ones. It remains the most dangerous because it always wins," she hissed calmly.
Jakob snorted. He knew his loyal serpent was trying to comfort him, but her words offered little solace at the moment.
"Don't let your pride cloud your judgment, my youngling."
The second-year Slytherin sighed again, acknowledging her advice with a faint nod before brushing it off and shifting the conversation.
His gaze swept around the room. "They say the ghost of some girl haunts this place," he remarked, his voice light with disinterest. Then he shrugged.
"Guess she's not home."
He stepped down and turned the ancient, rusted crane, letting the cool water spill over his hands before splashing it on his face. As he leaned down, something caught his attention.
Jakob's fingers brushed against the handle, his frown deepening as he traced the intricate engraving of a snake coiled along its surface, each scale etched with delicate precision.
"Saliza," Jakob hissed softly, his tone laced with intrigue, "what do you make of this?"
The serpent, slithering up his arm and beginning to settle beneath his robes, peeked out from his chest with mild curiosity.
Her crimson eyes flickered toward the sink, her tongue darting out to taste the air. "There is a scent here," she hissed, her voice tinged with curiosity. "It is familiar—snake-like. The sink is drenched in it."
Jakob leaned back, a thoughtful expression shadowing his face. "We'll keep it in mind for later," he hissed in reply.
With a sharp turn, his robe swishing in his wake, Jakob strode toward the door. Saliza retreated into the warmth of his clothing as they left the room behind.
After narrowly avoiding two patrolling prefects and slipping past McGonagall—who was in the middle of reprimanding two students for indecent behaviour in the Great Hall—Jakob finally managed to sneak out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest.
Standing amidst the dense trees, Jakob extended his arm downward, allowing Saliza to slither off. Her serpentine body moved gracefully across the forest floor, the faint rustling of her scales blending with the soft whisper of the wind through the leaves.
Above, the canopy swayed gently, shadows shifting unpredictably across his face. In the far distance, the castle stood like a faint, unreachable beacon, its distant lights barely visible through the thick foliage. Jakob's gaze lingered on it, his expression neutral, revealing neither his thoughts nor intentions.
"Why are we waiting here? I can feel your darkness stirring. It hungers," hissed Saliza as she coiled and slithered toward him.
Jakob crouched down, dragging his hand gently along her scaled body, his voice soft, almost affectionate.
"Crow will be here soon," he said. "The one who led the ambush, the one who dared cast that curse on me—causing me a lot of pain. Tonight, we'll remind him what happens when someone crosses me."
"I will rip and tear him apart!" Saliza hissed, her voice vibrating with venomous fury.
Jakob's lips curved into a cold smile. "That's exactly what I want you to do."
Saliza's gaze sharpened, her tongue flicking the air. "You mentioned three boys. What of the last one?"
"Finnius?" Jakob said, his tone dismissive. "He's a coward. Not worth our time. By the time he knows what happened to Crow, he'll know his place."
The muffled crunch of leaves under heavy boots echoed faintly through the dense, shadowed forest. Saliza lay motionless in the underbrush, her dark cloak blending seamlessly with the night.
Her sharp eyes, glinting faintly, darted toward Jakob, who remained still as a statue behind the trunk of an ancient oak.
His silhouette was barely visible, his breath deliberately held, as if the forest itself would betray their presence.
They were waiting—for what came next.
The two boys had walked into the woods.
"I told you berrow, there would be a great reward for helping our king."
Darius, who walked behind Crow, answered. "Yeah..."
"Dont be so low darius, we will-"
"Stupefy!"
The red streak of light blazed through the trees, striking Crow in the back. He collapsed, the force sending him sprawling to the ground in a graceless heap.
The muffled thud of his fall rippled briefly through the clearing.
Berrow, wand still raised, trembled as he sheeted it Inside his robes. His face was pale, as he had just betrayed one of his closest friends.
"I—I did what you asked," he said loudly, staring into the forest, his voice catching on the edge of panic.
His gaze darted about the clearing, desperately searching for Jakob's familiar figure. But there was no sign of him. None.
Moments later, the fear took hold. Berrow turned sharply and bolted toward the distant safety of the castle, his erratic footsteps fading into the distance.
Jakob stepped out from the shadows. His eyes glanced at Saliza, her red slits staring back at him.
"He played his part well enough."
With unhurried steps, Jakob approached Crow's unconscious form, the faint snap of a twig underfoot. He stopped just short of the sixth-year's crumpled figure and raised his wand, the tip glowing faintly in the moonlight. "Incarcerous." Dark ropes sprang forth, winding themselves around Crow's limp arms and legs, binding him firmly.
Jakob knelt, studying the unconscious boy for a brief moment. Then, with a sharp motion, he flicked his wand.
"Finite."
Crow's eyelids flickered weakly, the glassy sheen in his eyes betraying his disorientation. His voice emerged as a hoarse whisper, raw and searching. "Wh-where…? Berrow?"
As his bleary gaze sharpened, it landed on Jakob crouched before him, the faintest glint of a predator's satisfaction playing across the younger Slytherin's lips. Crow's breath hitched, his voice faltering as realisation dawned.
"Quade?" Crow's voice broke, rising into a sharp note of panic. His struggles became frantic as the weight of the situation settled over him, the magical bonds digging into his wrists with every desperate twist.
"No! No, let me go i will—help! Somebody, help!" he cried.
Jakob tilted his head, his smile twisting into something that could make even seasoned wizards shudder. "Scream again," he murmured, his voice calm and playful, "and I'll cut out your tongue. Scream after that, and I'll melt your eyes. Your choice."
Crow froze. He looked at the younger Slytherin to see if he was bluffing or actually insane. When the latter was evident, tears welled in his eyes before they spilt down his cheeks.
"Please, I'm sorry!" Crow choked out, his voice cracking under the weight of desperation. The words tumbled from him in a panicked rush. "I—I was stupid, okay? I wouldn't have left you there for long, I swear—"
"Shhh." Jakob's voice dipped into a mockery of tenderness, smooth and quiet, as his hand reached out to pat Crow's head with a condescending familiarity, like calming a frightened animal.
"I understand," he cooed, the faint trace of amusement lacing his tone. "You got caught up in the moment, right?"
Crow nodded frantically, his tears falling faster as he clung to the fragile hope that his submission might save him.
Jakob's expression didn't waver, his voice maintaining that unsettling calm, almost tender in its softness. "And using the Cruciatus Curse on me?" he asked, each word precise, as though savouring them. "That was a mistake too, wasn't it?"
Crow nodded quickly, a frantic and jerky motion. "Yes, I got caught up," he stammered, his voice trembling and thin as he scrambled to provide the answer Jakob seemed to want.
"If you were in my shoes," Jakob said, "and had someone like you bound here, what would you do to them?" His smirk faded, leaving behind a cold, empty stare. "Don't lie. You'll regret it."
Crow hiccupped, the answer dragging out of him like a confession. "I—I'd hurt you. A lot. M…maybe even kill you, but I'm not certain."
"Good." Jakob nodded, almost approving. He patted Crow's head again, his touch icy despite its mock affection. "Very good, Crow. But I'm not you."
Jakob's hand slipped into Crow's robes, rifling through pockets until he found what he was searching for.
He withdrew Crow's wand, inspecting it. Crow stared at the slender piece of wood as though it were a lifeline slipping further from his grasp.
Jakob rose to his feet, his smile returning, radiant and chilling. "Tell you what," he said, spinning Crow's wand idly between his fingers. "I'll let you go."
Crow's eyes widened, hope flickering to life. "R—really?" he whispered.
Jakob nodded, his smile widening. "Really. But there's one condition."
The hope in Crow's face faltered. "Wh-what condition?"
Jakob leaned in, his voice a hiss dripping with sadistic glee. "Run. Run like you're being hunted."
Crow stared, confusion and terror written all over his face. "Why?"
Jakob stepped back, his laughter soft, almost pleasant, but with a darkness that twisted it into something deeply horrifying.
"Because you will be hunted. If you make it back to the castle, you've earned your freedom. If not…"
Then Crow saw it, lurking just beside Jakob. First came the eyes—two narrow, red slits that burned like embers in the dark. As his vision adjusted, the rest of it emerged: black scales that didn't just blend with the shadows but seemed to swallow them whole, like the creature was a living void.
But none of that was the worst part. That came when Quade hissed. The sound wasn't meant for Crow—it was meant for the snake. A low, serpentine rasp that slithered through the air and burrowed into Crow's chest, where it froze his blood and twisted his stomach into knots.
The snake moved, its head tilting toward the sound.
It hissed back. Then it turned its gaze on Crow, still bound and trembling on the ground.
Its mouth opened slowly, revealing fangs long enough to punch through bone. Then, it closed them with a quiet, intended snap.
It didn't strike. It didn't lunge.
It was waiting.
With a flick of Jakob's wand, the ropes binding Crow slumped lifelessly to the ground.
Jakob's smirk widened, his head tilting ever so slightly as if wondering what Crow was doing on the ground. His eyebrow arched the picture of mock curiosity.
"Run," he said, the word drawn out like the first note of a twisted lullaby. His tone turned sharp, the playful edge giving way to something colder.
"Now!"
Crow didn't need to be told again. He turned and bolted, his footsteps pounding against the earth, his ragged breaths fading into the distance.
He watched Crow stumble into the darkness, his smirk hardening into something colder, sharper.
"Saliza," he hissed, his voice low and commanding, eyes locked on the boy flailing through the forest, tripping over roots and barely keeping his balance.
Saliza coiled at the sound of her name, her form trembling with an eager, predatory energy.
"Kill."
Saliza launched forward in a blur, her silhouette slicing through the darkness like a sleek shadow. Jakob watched as she struck her target, her fangs sinking deep into the prey's neck with an almost effortless precision. Her serpentine body twisted and constricted around him, each motion seamless and ruthless.
A strangled noise escaped the boy, a sound of terror and pain, but it was cut short as Saliza tightened her grip. His arms flailed desperately, clawing at the relentless coils around his neck and chest. He stumbled, swaying unsteadily, before crumpling to the forest floor.
Jakob moved closer, his steps measured and unhurried, drawn to the grim spectacle before him. Saliza clung tightly to her prey, her fangs buried deep in the boy's neck as dark blood pooled on the forest floor, glistening faintly under the muted light filtering through the trees.
Kneeling, Jakob peered into the boy's fading eyes, wide with fear and dimming with each passing second. His fingers twitched in futile protest, but soon, his arms fell limp, his body yielding entirely to stillness. Only a faint spasm remained before death claimed him.
Saliza finally loosened her hold, uncoiling with a slow, sinuous grace. She slithered back toward Jakob, her mouth glistening crimson, the wizard's blood streaking faintly against her pale scales. At his feet, she paused, her red eyes locking with his.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Jakob asked, extending his hand. Saliza slithered up his arm with ease, disappearing into his robes.
"Very," Saliza hissed as she emerged again, settling in her usual place between his shoulders. Her tongue flicked out, brushing against his cheek with a faint, satisfied hiss.
"Saliza, what poison did you inject him with?" Jakob asked, his fingers idly brushing over her smooth scales.
"No poison yet, Jakob," she replied with a hint of amusement. "I'll develop that as I grow. But even without it, I'm deadly, as you witnessed."
Jakob nodded, stroking her head thoughtfully. "That's good. We don't want anyone figuring out what kind of snake killed him," he said, his tone calm and calculated. Reaching into his robe, he retrieved the wand he had taken moments earlier from the now-lifeless Crow.
Saliza's eyes narrowed, her tongue flicking in curiosity. "What will you do with it?" she hissed softly.
Jakob held the wand up to the faint light, a smile creeping across his face.
"I think I'll keep it. A keepsake from our first hunt together."
"The first of many," Saliza hissed, coiling herself more snugly around his shoulders.
"The first of many," Jakob echoed, the grin lingering as he tucked the wand into his cloak again.
They strolled through the forest, taking a detour to avoid leaving by the same path the two Slytherin boys had used earlier. As they walked, Saliza spoke to Jakob, her voice soft and flowing as she recounted the various creatures and strange sights she had encountered during her explorations.
"I encountered giant spiders—creatures not native to this place—and they recoiled at my presence. I've seen unicorns, though they are rare here. Too foul for me to consider eating," she remarked with distaste. "And I found a door in the ground, sealed shut."
Jakob stopped abruptly, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the snake perched on his shoulders.
"A door in the ground?" he asked, curiosity sharpening his tone.
"Yes," Saliza replied. "It was made of stone, sealed off with protective magic. I can show it to you another night, if you wish."
Jakob considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, that sounds worth investigating."
They continued through the forest, their path winding toward the lake. Jakob knew crossing it was the only way to reach the castle and the small window that led back to his dormitory.
The water was icy, and as he stepped into it, he felt the cold bite at his skin. Needing both hands to swim, he couldn't use a warming charm.
Saliza slipped into the water ahead of him, her movements fluid and graceful as she guided him through the dark, chilly lake. Jakob followed, each stroke sending ripples across the surface. He silently prayed that nothing in the depths would stir, no unseen creature rising to drag him down.
After what felt like an eternity, a small patch of grass came into view. Saliza slithered onto the bank first, her body glistening and curling into a ball, watching her youngling with amusement. Jakob followed, dragging himself out of the water, his limbs heavy with exhaustion and his robes drenched. He collapsed briefly onto the damp grass, catching his breath, before glancing toward the castle.
"Do you do this every time I let you out?" Jakob asked with a mix of surprise and admiration as he watched his snake.
"No," Saliza hissed in response. "I can slither around the castle's outer edges to avoid the water. You, however, are far too large and clumsy for that."
Jakob couldn't help but smirk at her bluntness. "Fair enough," he replied, giving her a thumbs-up.
Saliza turned her gaze toward the towering castle fixed on a specific window. "And how exactly do you plan on getting up there?" she hissed, her tone carrying a hint of curiosity.
"You'll have to go ahead and make Pansy open the window," Jakob instructed, his voice calm but firm. "Tell her I need to speak with her."
With a flick of her tail, Saliza began her ascent, her movements fluid and almost hypnotic. Jakob stood back, watching in amazement as the snake seemed to defy gravity.
It looked as though she were gliding on an invisible path rather than gripping the cold stone walls. It must be one of her magical abilities, he mused before shaking the thought away. Refocusing on the task at hand, he gripped the uneven surface and heaved himself up from the ground.
Soon, Saliza reached the window, nudging it gently with her head. The glass rattled softly, and after a brief pause, the window creaked open. Pansy appeared, her face lighting up with a small smile as she spotted the snake. She whispered something to Saliza—words Jakob couldn't make out from where he stood below—before stepping aside to let the serpent glide inside with an elegant, almost regal movement.
"Pansy!" Jakob whispered as loudly as he dared.
The girl glanced down, her gaze locking onto Jakob standing below. A look of relief flickered across her face as she saw him and gave a quick nod. "Wait there," she said hurriedly before disappearing from view.
Moments later, she returned, holding his sleek black Nimbus 2001. Leaning out precariously, she dropped the broom into the air. Jakob already had his wand in hand as he pointed it toward the falling broom and whispered, "Arresto Momentum."
The broom slowed just before hitting the ground, floating gently into his grasp. Jakob swung a leg over it and launched himself up.
Within seconds, he reached the window and crawled inside. Pansy stepped back to give him space.
Before doing anything else, Jakob stripped off his soaked clothes, quickly pulling on the dry ones he had tucked away. The chill from his wet robes still clung to him as he worked.
"Who's been asking for me?" he asked without looking up.
"No one important," Pansy replied, leaning out to grab the window handle. With a smooth motion, she pulled it shut, sealing out the cool night air. "But a few didn't buy it when I said you were in here resting."
Jakob nodded, already half-dressed. He reached for his shirt when he noticed Pansy's gaze shift, her expression faltering as she realised what he was doing. Her eyes briefly widened before she spun around, her cheeks flushed a deep red.
"For Merlin's sake, Jake, do that in the bathroom!"
"Why do you care?" Jakob asked, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion as he finished buttoning his shirt. "I sleep in just a pair of shorts most nights, and you've never had a problem with that."
"Because," Pansy began, her eyes darting as if searching for the answer. "You can't just strip here in the dorm! We have rules, you know!"
Jakob rolled his eyes as he finished dressing, brushing a hand through his slightly damp hair. "Right, I'll remember to draft a formal understanding next time," he muttered sarcastically.
Pansy turned back around, still avoiding looking directly at him, and crossed her arms. "Fine, but are you're going to tell me what you were doing now?"
Jakob glanced at her briefly, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. "Not now," he said firmly. "Questions will have to wait. We need to get to the common room."
Pansy narrowed her eyes but didn't argue, instead turning on her heel and heading for the door. "Fine, but don't think I'm forgetting about this," she said over her shoulder.
Jakob followed her out, letting the door click shut behind them as they made their way through the dimly lit corridors. The faint hum of chatter and laughter grew louder with each step, signalling their approach to the Slytherin common room.
When they entered, Jakob's eyes immediately landed on Draco, seated at a table surrounded by a group of other Slytherins. A stack of cards was in his hands, and a mischievous grin played on his face.
As Draco looked up, so did several other students. Perfect, Jakob thought. Now everyone knows I've left my dorm.
Keeping his expression composed, he crossed the room with an air of casual confidence and took a seat.
Berrow, who sat with Finnius, glanced nervously at Jakob, who gave him a discreet nod.
The boy seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and so did Finnius, though his composure wavered for just a moment.
Interesting, Jakob mused, how Finnius believes he's off the hook. Berrow will still face punishment later, but it's not like he'll share the same consequences… or perhaps he should. Jakob's lips curled into the faintest smirk as the idea took shape. That might actually be a good idea.
"Quade!" Jakob's thoughts were interrupted by the sharp call of Damon's voice. He turned his head to see his king striding toward him, flanked by two members of the Slytherin Five. Amy Frome moved with her usual composed elegance while Marcus Flint followed, his broad shoulders and confident smirk adding to the intimidating presence of the trio.
"Have you seen Crow?" Damon asked, his voice sharp and probing.
Jakob glanced subtly at Berrow, who discreetly shook his head. Jakob returned his gaze to Damon, his expression calm but slightly puzzled. "No? Is he looking for me?" he asked, feigning confusion.
Damon's eyes shifted toward Berrow and Finnius, who were both intently focused on the chess game they were clearly pretending to play.
"No, he's not," Damon replied, his tone clipped. "I just thought you might've seen him here in the common room." He paused, narrowing his eyes slightly. "When did you get back here?"
Jakob leaned back in his chair, his demeanour casual. "Back? I've been here since dinner—give or take a few minutes," he replied smoothly.
Damon's expression darkened, suspicion flickering across his face. "Why haven't I seen you until now, then?"
Jakob sighed softly, rubbing his temple for added effect. "Didn't feel great earlier," he said. "Headache. So, I went into my dorm for a while to rest. Still hurts, but it's manageable now, at least."
Damon let out a low hum, clearly unconvinced, as his sharp gaze scanned the room. Spotting a third-year girl seated nearby, he pointed at her abruptly. "You there."
The girl stiffened slightly, her eyes darting nervously between Damon and Jakob. "Yes, my king?" she said, her voice trembling slightly under Damon's scrutiny.
"Did you see this one—" Damon gestured toward Jakob, "—come in from the entrance door?"
The girl quickly shook her head. "No, my king," she answered. "He just came from the dorms corridor."
Damon turned back toward Jakob, studying him briefly before letting out a low grunt. He gave a dismissive wave, signalling he was done with the conversation.
Damon leaned toward Amy, whispering something too low for Jakob to catch. Straightening, he turned to address the room, his voice sharp and commanding.
"If anyone sees Mr. Crow, inform him that his king wishes to see him. It's urgent."
A ripple of acknowledgement passed through the room as heads nodded. Damon's gaze swept across the gathered Slytherins before he strode toward the exit, Amy and Flint following without a word.
Jakob remained still, resisting the urge to glance at Amy. He knew too many eyes were on him now, curious and watchful. Instead, he focused on the game in front of him.
Time passed, and the tension gradually lifted as the room settled back into its usual rhythm.
Jakob stayed a while longer, playing casually but with his mind elsewhere, before deciding it was time to return to bed. Rising with his usual composure, he nodded to the others and quietly made his way back to his dorm together with Pansy.
When Pansy and her roommate stepped inside, she firmly closed the door behind them and immediately turned to Jakob, her expression sharp and demanding.
"Is now a good time for you to tell me why you were in an abandoned classroom? Why you disappeared with Saliza? Why you wanted me to deal with that Berrow fellow? And, for Merlin's sake, why in the bloody hell did you go for a swim when it was curfew?"
Jakob let out a weary sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Dragging a hand through his hair, he glanced up at her with a look that only deepened the lines of frustration and fatigue on his face.
"Pansy," he began, his voice steady but low, "I won't lie to you, but there are certain things I wish not to talk about."
Pansy, who had been standing rigidly with her arms crossed, softened slightly at the sight of his exhaustion. Her arms fell loosely to her sides as concern replaced her initial irritation. She moved closer, her expression shifting to one of worried support.
"Does everything that happened tonight have something to do with that sixth-year, Crow?" she asked, her voice quieter now, her eyes searching his face for answers.
Jakob locked eyes with her as she sat down beside him, her expression soft but insistent. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke, his voice low and measured.
"Pansy, I'm not really sure I want to go into detail, but today… someone did something to me. I got them back."
Pansy's eyes lingered on him, concern evident in her expression. She reached out slowly, taking his hand in hers. "You're not going to tell me how?" she asked, her voice soft but curious.
Jakob shook his head, his weariness etched into his face. "One day, I will," he replied. "But I'm dead tired right now."
Pansy nodded, her worry still lingering but unspoken. She stood and quickly changed into her pyjamas before slipping into bed beside him.
As Jakob's breathing began to even out, Pansy stayed awake longer, her head resting lightly on his chest. She listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her hand absently tracing soft patterns along his arm.
It was as though she refused to let sleep take her until she was sure he had finally found some peace.
The following day, small but unmistakable signs at the teacher's table hinted that something was wrong. Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Snape were missing, and the rest of the staff exchanged uneasy glances. Their tension was subtle but clear, as though they were waiting for news that hadn't yet arrived.
Jakob picked up on the mood but brushed it aside, choosing to stick to his routine. He moved through his morning classes in silence, his thoughts firmly locked away.
By lunchtime, nothing had changed. The empty seats at the teacher's table stood out, and Jakob began to wonder how long it would be before someone turned their attention to the Forbidden Forest. His sharp eyes caught something else—none of the Slytherin Five had shown up for lunch either.
After potions class, Jakob climbed the staircase to the sixth floor unhurriedly. Today was the first official meeting of his club. While he anticipated the gathering, part of him hoped for fewer attendees. He needed space—space to talk to Granger. The chaos of the past few days had stolen his focus from Granger, and he needed to bring it back.
As he climbed the stairs and stepped onto the landing, his eyes turned toward the corridor, and he stopped dead in his tracks.
There were far more people than he'd anticipated.
Outside the designated classroom stood what Jakob could only hope wasn't sixteen students waiting expectantly. The sight made him want to groan, but he settled for a sigh instead, his eyes scanning the crowd. Most of them appeared to be first-years, their eager faces making the situation all the more exasperating.
Among them, Jakob spotted Ella and Luna near the edge of the group. When they noticed him, they waved enthusiastically, and he returned a small nod and a faint smile though his mind was elsewhere. As he moved closer, his attention shifted to Hermione at the front, addressing the students with firm, clear instructions. There was something about how she carried herself that kept everyone focused on her, a quiet confidence that demanded attention without effort.
"Line up properly! No shoving, or you're out," Hermione called firmly, her voice cutting through the chatter. When she spotted Jakob approaching, she offered a warm smile before turning back to issue another round of sharp instructions.
Jakob's lips twitched into a subtle smirk. Granger was certainly enjoying herself, he thought as he continued toward her.
With a casual flick of his wand, the door to the classroom clicked open, the sound cutting through the chatter and immediately drawing the attention of the gathered students.
"Mr. Quade is here," Hermione announced briskly, turning to face the group. She gestured toward the now-open door, her expression firm as she added, "Line up properly and enter one at a time. And for Merlin's sake, no pushing!"
Jakob stepped past her, pausing briefly to murmur, "Efficient as always, Granger." His tone was low, just enough for her to hear, before he strode into the room, leaving her to manage the eager crowd at the door.
As Jakob stood inside, he greeted each student with a polite nod as they entered and found their seats.
"Alright, everyone," he began, his voice steady and clear, commanding the room's attention. "We have an hour and a half before dinner. When you enter, find a seat and take out the homework you've brought with you. Start working. If you need help, place the sign provided on your desk, and either Miss Granger or I will come to assist you. Until then, try to tackle the next question or move on to something else if possible."
The room settled into an organised hum of activity as students began to work, Hermione moving between desks to ensure everyone understood the process.
A knock on the door interrupted the rhythm. Hermione moved toward it, but Jakob raised a hand, stopping her. "Continue the class, make sure they start. I'll handle the late arrivals,"
Hermione nodded, returning to keeping the students on track while Jakob walked to the door and opened it.
When he saw who was standing there, he had to summon all his self-control to suppress a laugh.
"Mr. Weasley. Mr. Potter," he greeted smoothly, his tone polite, though the amusement in his eyes was hard to miss.
"Don't flatter yourself," Harry hissed, shooting Jakob a sharp glare. "We're only here because we didn't have a choice."
Jakob's lips twitched, but he kept his smirk in check.
"We all have a choice, Potter," he said smoothly.
"You don't have to explain yourself, Harry. It's probably a rubbish classroom anyway," Ron muttered, scowling as they brushed past Jakob and stepped into the room.
Jakob shut the door behind them and returned to the teacher's desk at the front of the room.
From his seat, he casually observed Ron's reaction to the classroom. Despite his earlier disdain, Ron's eyes darted around, his curiosity poorly concealed as he took in the details of the space.
He lingered on the enchanted paintings Jakob had hung along the walls, his gaze resting on one that depicted a winter village blanketed in gently falling snow. The scene moved with subtle magic, the snowflakes glistening as they danced through the air.
For a brief moment, Ron's hand twitched as though he were about to point it out to Harry, but he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned over and whispered something in Harry's ear. A second later, he plastered on an exaggeratedly disgusted expression, giving the room a theatrical sneer before slumping into a seat and pulling out his books with a loud huff.
Jakob leaned back slightly in his chair, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. This is going to be more entertaining than I expected, he thought as he surveyed the room.
As the after-class session began, Jakob settled into his seat, pulling out parchment and a quill, which he dipped in ink before starting his own homework. Beside him, Hermione mirrored his actions, already engrossed in her writing.
"Miss Granger," Jakob whispered after a few moments, tilting his parchment toward her. "Would you read this and double-check if you think it's good?"
A little surprised by the request, Hermione leaned over to read his work. On the parchment, Jakob had scrawled: Hi, it's good to see you again, Hermione. I hope they are done before dinner so we might have some time to talk.
The corners of her mouth tugged into a faint smile before she quickly schooled her expression. Picking up her quill, she began to write. "Maybe if you phrased it like this, "she said quietly with a thoughtful tone. Jakob leaned in slightly, watching as she carefully wrote her suggestion:
It's good to see you, too, and I would love to but don't get your hopes up. There are a lot of Muggle-borns here.
Jakob glanced over the classroom, understanding the implication. The Muggle-born students, still new to the magical world, lacked the foundational knowledge that purebloods like him took for granted. Sure enough, signs soon began appearing on desks as students signalled for assistance.
Without a word, Jakob and Hermione silently divided the room—she would handle Harry, Ron, and their usual circle while Jakob took Ella and Luna. The rest were split between them.
Jakob, however, found himself redirected to Colin Creevey, a first-year who had raised his hand with an eager but lost expression. Sighing inwardly, Jakob approached.
"What's the question?" Jakob asked briskly.
"Um… it's about how to cut the horned slug for the Cure for Boils potion," Colin said hesitantly.
Jakob frowned. "Read the book," he replied curtly, his tone taking on a sharp edge reminiscent of Professor Snape.
"I-I don't have my book," Colin admitted sheepishly, shrinking slightly under Jakob's stare.
Jakob blinked, incredulous. "Where is it?"
"In my dorm. I didn't think I'd need it to write the text," Colin confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jakob stared at him for a moment, utterly baffled. "You're writing a text on how to brew a Cure for Boils," he said slowly, his voice carrying the same icy tone Snape often used, "and you didn't think you'd need the book?"
Colin stammered, "Well, I…"
Jakob didn't wait for him to finish. He turned on his heel and strode back to his desk, muttering under his breath about the absurdity of first-years.
Ron, who had been observing the exchange from his seat, leaned over toward Colin. "Don't worry about him, mate. I can help you," he said in an overly loud voice, ensuring Jakob could hear. "Can't believe he'd just walk away like that," Ron added resentfully.
Now at his desk, Jakob paused as he bent to pick up a book. Straightening, he walked toward Colin, his steps slow and deliberate, the book held casually in his hand. Without sparing Colin a glance, his sharp gaze locked directly on Ron.
"If I hear another insult out of you, Weasley," Jakob said, his voice calm but with a cutting edge, "I'll move your seat right in front of my desk. And after that, I'll make it my personal priority to assist you with every single question. Understood?"
Ron's defiance faltered under Jakob's unyielding stare. He looked down at his parchment, his face flushing with embarrassment, and muttered something unintelligible as he continued to write.
Jakob placed the book firmly on Colin's table without breaking eye contact with Ron. Only after Ron seemed fully busy with his homework did Jakob finally turn his attention back to Colin. "Turn to page 64," he instructed.
Colin flipped open the book, his eyes wide with awe. "Wow, how can you remember what page it was on?" he asked, clearly impressed.
Jakob didn't respond, simply gesturing for Colin to continue working.
For the next 15 minutes, Jakob moved methodically from table to table, answering what students seemed to believe were impossibly difficult questions. Most were straightforward, requiring nothing more than a quick explanation, though Jakob couldn't help but feel like he was babysitting rather than teaching. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a sign go up, making him look mildly surprised. It was the Weasley girl sitting a little further away from the others.
Jakob approached her, acutely aware of the stares from her brother, Ron, and her secret crush, Harry Potter.
"Hello, Miss Weasley," Jakob greeted politely. "What do you need help with?"
Ginny hesitated, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "Um… it's fine. I'll wait for Hermione," she said softly, offering an apologetic smile as her gaze briefly flicked away.
Jakob tilted his head, lowering himself slightly to meet her eye level. Speaking in a low, measured voice, he said, "I've managed to help four students while Miss Granger is still trying to get your brother to grasp basic concepts. You can either wait for him to finally understand—something we both know won't happen in this class—or you can get the same help from me."
Ginny blinked, clearly torn. After a moment's thought, she nodded. "Alright."
"Great, now then, what's the problem?" Jakob asked, his tone calm but with a hint of efficiency.
Ginny explained her issue, and Jakob listened carefully. He had to admit, it was the most challenging question he'd encountered so far—but even the hardest one yet wasn't that hard. As she explained her method, he identified the shortcut she'd used and quickly understood why her potion wasn't working.
After explaining, Jakob added, "The shortcut you're using disrupts the brew entirely. Instead, you should…" He paused to detail an alternative method, breaking it down in a way that was both practical and easy to understand.
Ginny looked at him, her expression shifting to one of genuine surprise. She hadn't expected him to offer advice that wasn't directly from the book. "Thank you," she said sincerely.
"No worries," Jakob replied with a faint smirk. "But don't include that in the text. If Professor Snape sees it, he'll call it 'cheating,'" he said, mimicking Snape's distinctive tone while making air quotes with his fingers. "And take points."
Ginny let out a small laugh at his mimicry of Snape's voice. "I'll be careful," she promised, glancing at her parchment as if seeing her work in a new light.
As the session continued, Jakob and Hermione moved from chair to chair, answering questions and guiding students. The steady flow of requests left them little chance to sit together again, but the room remained productive. Jakob noted the improvement in the students' focus and progress as the minutes ticked by.
Finally, Jakob glanced at the clock and saw that the club session had come to an end. He walked back to his desk, raising a hand to signal Hermione. She joined him as he addressed the room.
"All right, everyone," Jakob announced, his voice cutting through the low murmur of chatter. "That's it for today. Start packing up your things and head to the Great Hall for dinner."
The students began to gather their belongings, murmuring their thanks as they passed Jakob and Hermione on their way out. Jakob nodded politely at each of them, his demeanour composed but faintly relieved as the room gradually emptied. Once the door closed behind the last student, he turned to Hermione.
Without a word, the Slytherin boy stepped forward and pulled the Gryffindor girl into a hug. Slightly surprised at first, Hermione quickly returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around him.
"Thank you, for helping me with this." Jakob said softly as they pulled back, a small, genuine smile on his face.
"You're welcome," Hermione replied, her tone warm. They lingered by the desk, talking in hushed voices about their summer adventures and the chaotic start of the new school year.
As they stepped out of the classroom together, Jakob glanced at Hermione. "We'll need to split up here," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "But I'm moving the club meetings to after dinner. It'll give us more time for evaluations afterward."
Hermione nodded, her smile growing. "That sounds perfect. See you tomorrow Quade."
As Jakob made his way to the Great Hall, he noticed the Aurors and other Ministry officials moving purposefully through the corridors as they questioned groups of students.
Stupidity, Jakob thought as he took a lesser-known route to avoid crossing their paths.
They would have found the body by now if they had just searched the Forbidden Forest.
He shook his head, silently reprimanding himself for expecting people to look in the most obvious places.
When he entered the Great Hall, he slid into a seat beside Pansy and Millicent, seamlessly joining their quiet conversation. His demeanour remained neutral, but his attention quickly shifted as the headmaster stood to address the students.