A/N: Sorry for the error with this chapter. It should be visible now!
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September 1, 1997
Platform Nine and Three Quarters was a miserable place to be on that gloomy day. Dementors soared above the people gathered to catch the scarlet steam engine, adding to the general air of depression. The terrifying mist that they brought with them everywhere turned the air a foggy grey, limiting visibility from one side of the station to the other.
Andrael strode forth in her grey cloak, silvery cassowary patronus darting out in front of her. The bird drew a few stares, but it was not unexpected in the presence of the dementors. Her trunk was shrunk down so it could fit in her pocket, her wand never left her hand. She wove in and out of the crowd, noting how few people there were this year. Everyone recognizable that she passed was pureblood or halfblood. Unlike in years past, there were no awestruck muggles on the platform.
She had said her goodbyes to Ungaku earlier that morning, preferring not to make a big fuss out of it. The last thing either of them needed was the music master running into Lucius Malfoy, or Thoros Nott, or someone else to start a fight with. Andrael hadn't explicitly said she wouldn't be returning, but her little flat was bare and the key was returned to the greater shop.
Hogwarts was going to be an experiment this year. She had no idea what the Carrows would force them to learn, but she knew enough of the basics of Dark Magic to ensure she would excel. In her third year, she had gotten her first signature to browse the restricted section of the library. She had checked out Owle Bullock's Secrets of the Darkest Arts, an illuminating read to say the least.
Always in the habit of forming her own opinions, Andrael did not share the conventional opinions of Dark Magic. She had learned at a young age, through music, and then reinforced through years of magical learning, that magic was all about intent. One had to focus their will to create the simplest flicker of light from the end of the wand, one had to focus to create an arc of flames in the air, one had to focus to create precisely the right shade of pink on the teapot they were transfiguring. The more clear-minded the caster was, the easier the magic came. The more intentional the caster was, the more variance they could create from a simple charm.
Take the Aguamenti charm, a fairly standard spell to summon water. The witch or wizard could envision whatever type of water they want to summon, and alter the spell slightly. The water could spout directly from the tip of the caster's wand, the water could fill a cup or goblet, the water could create a wall in front of the caster. One spell could produce infinite effects; the solution for the problem was determined on the intent of the person who used it.
The word intent itself was a nuanced piece of the English language. For example, a person could compliment another genuinely, or use the words as social currency to further their own agenda. A well-meant compliment with no underlying motivations was obviously more valuable. But both are perceived the same way. It is intent that separates the genuine from the false, the cunning from the kind, the good from the evil.
In a similar vein, a person can cast a full body bind curse on another for a variety of reasons. If they are defending a friend, they are lauded. If they are hurting another, they are punished. Two different intentions create two different reactions, which create two different results.
And so, following her own chain of logic, Andrael believed Dark Magic was no different. All magic was governed the same: based upon the intent of the caster. There were ways to justify murder, there were ways to celebrate thievery.
But once one began to walk the path of the truly dark, things became… complicated. The Cruciatus curse could only be cast with the intent to cause harm. A good person truly needed to delude themselves into thinking that they were casting the spell for the right reasons. It could be done, it just required mental strength that Andrael didn't know if she possessed yet. What would happen when she had to choose between torturing a muggle-born, or keeping her true allegiances hidden to save more people later?
Magic was only Dark if the user intended to use it to harm others. A cutting jynx or even the levitation charm could be just as deadly as an Avada with the right intent behind it. In Andrael's school of thought, spells conventionally referred to as Dark Magic were really Grey Magic – magic that was more likely to have a harmful intent behind it. With that justification, she was ready to take on the world.
Her patronus drew a few more looks from the people they passed, but she continued her single-minded path to the train without delay. The crowd parted in front of her as if they were the Red Sea, and she could see straight ahead of her was Draco Malfoy flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and many of the rest of the seventh year Slytherins. They were the royalty among their subjects, the top of the pecking order in this new reality.
Oh right, she was actually one of them. It was so easy to forget sometimes. They were all just so polished and pure-blood, and Andrael was a scrappy loner who couldn't trust any of them.
Making a decision, she stepped off of the platform and into the train compartment right in front of her. There would be time for socialising later. Her inevitable dramatic entrance would need to be fashionably late… just late enough so they knew that she wasn't another hopeful looking for the popularity of the Death Eater family names.
She settled into an empty compartment, shooting a couple of second-year snots a positively terrifying smile on her way down the train corridor. Her patronus phased through the wall after her. A flick of her wand extinguished it. This was not yet the time to stand out.
She unshrunk her trunk briefly to peruse its contents. Pulling out a large tome on wandlore, Andrael began to read, the most unobtrusive thing she could think of to pass the time. She could feel the train begin to move beneath her, the scarlet steam engine pulling out of the station.
After she had waited long enough, Andrael returned her book to her trunk following the same shrinking and unshrinking procedures. A few spells later, and she stood in her Hogwarts robes, exiting the compartment with a smirk.
Voices were hushed in the corridors. There was no laughter echoing up and down the train. The absences were obvious; seats left empty among clusters of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors. Pairs of eyes tracked her progress, the green tie on her robes commanding authority.
The trolley lady rolled by her, a smile forced when Andrael refused her wares. She stood between compartments for a second, hearing the rush of wind outside the train closer than ever, before continuing on her way.
She schooled her features and pushed open the door. A half-dozen faces looked up at her with a mixture of confusion and annoyance. This only made Andrael smile wider.
"Scions," she said quietly, a more formal greeting for the heirs of Slytherin families.
"Cassowary," Draco Malfoy said diplomatically. Though the usual derision and condescension was back in his demeanour, Andrael could still see hints of the scared little boy from the Astronomy Tower; his face was paler than usual, his eyes darted back and forth with suspicion.
"Cassowary," Pansy Parkinson echoed with far less enthusiasm, face twisting into a scowl. She thought she caught Millicent Bulstrode rolling her eyes.
This was part of Andrael's plan. She needed to make herself known with the Slytherins before it was too late. There were ways around it, of course, but it would be much easier if she subtly established herself as a force to be reckoned with now, as opposed to later.
"How was your summer?" Malfoy asked, maintaining a thin facade of politeness.
"Wonderful," she lied. "I met your Aunt. She seems absolutely lovely." Andrael let the statement hang in the air, watching their reactions.
"Oh really…" Malfoy looked up at her with tentative interest. "In what context?"
"A chance encounter. She was a customer at my job." Intentional vagueness created intrigue, and a lack of information begged for questions. Sure enough, the Slytherins fell into her trap.
"Where do you, er, work?" Nott looked up from the chess set he had between him and Zabini, seemingly interested.
"Magical Music. Small shop in Diagon… odds are if you have an instrument in your manors, we've serviced it at some point." She shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
"It's run by one of our kind, right?" Pansy snorted.
"I do believe it is illegal to be anything less than half-blood these days." Andrael smirked.
Crabbe and Goyle snickered. For once, they weren't the dumb ones in a conversation, and she could see them enjoying it. She nodded at them once. Andrael would need numbers, and maybe they could be useful someday.
"Master Ungaku comes from one of the oldest magical lines in Japan. If you dared question his blood in front of him, you would be in a sorry state, your own family name be damned."
"One can't help but question… I mean, in these times…" Nott said sagely.
"Sure. If I only had half a brain cell, I could hypothetically question you lot about your blood right now, but that would be an unproductive insult. Know who you're talking to."
"I didn't know Aun- Madame Lestrange played an instrument." Draco furrowed his brow. She watched disgustedly as Pansy ran a hand through the boy's hair, appearing to default to possessiveness when she had nothing intelligent to say.
"I think personally, she should play saxophone. She seemed interested enough in the reeds… But she came in with Lord Rowle when he came to pick up his lyre."
Draco nodded, and they descended into silence. Andrael made no move to leave, making herself comfortable, much to Pansy's obvious annoyance. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered again as the girl let out a disgusted sigh.
"So Hogwarts under Snape." Zabini raised an eyebrow, moving a rook with conviction.
"Should be great. We can get away with whatever we want for real, now." Millicent crossed her arms, pleased with herself.
"Well, you all heard about the Carrows? They should be easy enough to convince not to make… enemies with us." Draco subtly leaned away from Pansy, and Andrael smiled.
There were cracks.
In fact the more she looked for them, the more she saw. Blaise and Theo seemed to be keeping distance between themselves and Draco. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to want to prove themselves, although to whom, she did not know. Millicent seemed the most self-confident she had ever been, yet there was the barest hint of unease in her gaze. And Daphne Greengrass had not said a word since Andrael had entered the compartment.
"Coat-riding little buggers." Millicent rolled her eyes. "God, did you all know my father wants me to marry Amycus? He's like twenty years my senior and gross. I told him I'd rather take the mark then spend a moment in his company."
"Good for you." Andrael nodded approvingly. "Of course if he is persistent, the best way to take care of a problem is to pull it up by the roots." The temperature in the room dropped as many of the Slytherins gaped at her. "What? You're telling me you would allow yourself to be stripped of your autonomy without a fight?"
"No." Millicent grinned. "You're merely putting words to my thoughts." Andrael nodded.
Draco looked slightly green. Blaise couldn't meet her eyes. Pansy looked almost thoughtful. Slowly they returned to normal. Yet after that display, Andrael noticed no one was going to kick her out of the compartment, so she sat on the floor. They were already beyond crowded, as the Slytherin royalty sensed safety in numbers.
"Check." Theo's rook had Blaise's king on the run.
Draco laughed. "What did I tell you, Blaise? That opening was weak."
"Watch and learn, Malfoy." He took the rook with his queen.
"Bloody little-" Theo scowled. He'd been forced to either trade queens or regroup.
Draco stood, leaning over Theo's shoulder to see. The flutter of movement this caused made everyone shift. Andrael noticed Daphne stir, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes.
"Hello, Daphne."
The girl nodded.
"What's new?"
"Not much. The world is stupid. We just now have an excuse to stop people from being stupid to us." Her voice sounded underused, a previously unheard rasp to it. The others ignored her words, still focused on the chess board, but she watched Daphne curiously.
"A reason?" She echoed.
"Status. Control. People won't mess with you if you have pure blood."
Andrael nodded with a wan smile. She didn't have that luxury, but fear worked just as well.
There was another commotion as Theo put Blaise back in check. It was dark now, the blur of the Scottish Highlands whipping past the window.
Andrael was feeling something between excitement and dread at the thought of returning to Hogwarts. Panicked professors, a pair of death eater goons, a headmaster dressed in flowing robes of black… this was not the haven she remembered. Andrael had come so far. If she could last the year, there was no turning back. This was her trial run. This was her final test.
She plastered her arrogant smile on her face, watching her fellow Slytherins carefully.
They all felt the chill of the dementors as they approached Hogsmeade station.
"Patronuses, anyone?" It was a popular myth that only good people could cast patronuses, yet that wasn't the case. All it took was one happy memory and a certain amount of willpower.
Andrael couldn't have been more than five. She was shrieking with laughter as her mother lifted her into the air, a bowl of half-mixed cookie dough abandoned on the counter. Andry was desperately trying to reach the plate of warm cookies already baked, and Genevieve was spinning her away from them. Eventually, she relented, handing her daughter one, and Andrael devoured it in seconds. She tugged on her mother's apron pleading for another one. She looked up to see Ungaku in the doorway, not yet understanding the fond smile he exchanged with Genevieve.
"Expecto Patronum!" Her shout was echoed by two other voices, as Blaise's and Daphne's patronuses joined her Cassowary. The former had a bird or prey, looking vaguely like a kite, whereas Daphne had something coyote-like.
She nodded grimly, trying to cling to the last moments of warmth before she stepped off the train. She received a couple of strange looks for her hulking bird, affixing a dazzling smile to her face.
The moment the wind tousled her hair, she knew things had changed. The night was foggy, a distinct chill permeating through the students. There was no excited chatter like there had been in years past, only hushed murmurs and fearful glances. Hogsmeade station was filled with shadows where there shouldn't be shadows, the inky pools of darkness clinging to corners.
Silver masks glinted even though there was no moon. Death Eaters had come to escort them to Hogwarts. Hagrid stood stooped over, calling for the first years like usual, but was flanked by two such figures. Andrael let herself be swept along with the Slytherins, following the crowd towards the carriages.
She startled when Millicent grabbed her arm, but relaxed when she realised the girl was leading her into a carriage with Pansy and Daphne. Andrael ran her hand over the coarse fur of their thestrals as they passed, the winged horses following her movements with their red eyes. The girls clambered into the vehicle, the sounds of the world outside deafened the moment Pansy shut the door. Her patronus phased in through the wall, curling to roost on the floor by her feet.
Of the four of them, Millicent looked most comfortable. Pansy kept looking out the window at the carriage the boys had crammed into, anxious about something that Andrael couldn't put her finger on. Daphne pet her coyote listlessly.
"Oh right…" Andrael started with a smirk. "I meant to ask… who's Head Boy and Girl this year?"
"Me and Draco…" Pansy said, bored. "Who else?"
Millicent laughed hollowly. "Like you deserve it."
"Excuse me! I've been prefect since fifth year! The House already looks to me for leadership!" She glowered at the girl indignantly.
"Please. Being prefect isn't a requirement to be Head Girl. And you sure as hell don't have the temperament for it."
Pansy's murderous glare suddenly turned icy calm. "You want to duel me for it, Millie?"
The girl averted her gaze, backing down wordlessly. Daphne's hands suddenly stilled on her patronus. Both of them almost looked afraid. Something had happened associated with those words.
"Are you accepting challenges, Pansy?" Andrael said conversationally, trying to avoid being completely in the dark.
"Hardly." She smirked.
"Then I fail to see what a duel would accomplish," she remarked, playing dumb.
"Millie knows."
The words echoed for an eternity.
Millicent tensed, her jaw working.
"What does-"
Daphne caught Andrael's eye, shaking her head. She shut her mouth, swallowing the question.
No one moved for a long moment.
"By the time this year is over…" Millicent started darkly, running a hand through her hair. "All I'll say is you bloody better watch yourself, Parkinson."
"I'm positively quaking in my boots."
Words faded to an uncomfortable silence.
There was the pureblood princess of cunning and tact Andrael had sensed simmering beneath the surface all these years. All it took was a reign of darkness to send it clawing out with a vengeance.
Andrael had always dismissed these girls. In hindsight, it was a potentially deadly bit of arrogance on her part. Their relationships were complicated and damning. She should have paid more attention. Now she was lost. And Andrael hated not knowing things.
Pansy would never talk to her. If Millicent had been slighted and the tale was embarrassing to recount, she wouldn't be any easier to crack.
Which left Daphne.
Strangely absent, muted Daphne, whom everyone else seemed to ignore.
Politics were all about social relationships, and Andrael was already at a disadvantage as a halfblood. Even now, she could see Pansy angling herself away from her, leaning against the wall to avoid her, a pointed glance or pertinent sniff here and there.
Knowledge was the only form of power she possessed.
Daphne fidgeted, the awkwardness taking its toll, as the quiet stretched on.
She could feel them descending towards the castle now, circling lower and lower. They were about to have their first address by a headmaster other than Dumbledore. Andrael had a sneaking suspicion that the Welcome Feast wasn't going to be very welcoming. She pitied the first-years that would only hear stories on what they had just barely missed out on.
Hogwarts had never been a paradise in the past, but it had been home. Dumbledore had been a large part of that environment, his contributions felt even in his absence.
As they climbed out of the carriage, boots on the cobblestone ground once more, her eyes drifted to the headmaster's tower. After everything, she still almost expected to see the glint of half-moon spectacles. Instead, she saw a tall, black shape, perched on the windowsill, robes fluttering in the wind.
Severus Snape was watching.
And then she heard why, as a pair of familiar voices began barking orders. The Carrows stood on the steps, shoving people into lines, directing students into groups based on House and year. The formation being created was vaguely militaristic, a block organised by rank and file.
Death Eaters swept through the ranks, having likely followed them up to the castle from Hogsmeade. Andrael didn't recognize any of them, but they looked on the whole, younger than she would have expected, maybe only a few years older than her.
A fourth-year Gryffindor made the mistake of asking what they were doing, and earned a swift kick to the shins in response. A small Ravenclaw moved too, and was shoved into position so hard, she sent a few children toppling over.
"DISCIPLINE," Amycus started. "For too long, you gormless, manky sods have had free reign of this bloody castle, thinking you own the place. But this… this is a new fecking regime!" He punctuated his words by smacking a boy who was shifted slightly out of line.
"Ye berks will learn swiftly there are consequences for your actions. Corporal punishment for one," Alecto stomped on a girl's toes. "Get moving!"
"This will be your new formation. Whenever you receive marching orders, you are to assemble immediately and present yourselves before the headmaster, or whomever."
"There'll be drills in the courtyards for practice, because if I know anything about you lot, it's that you're fecking idiots that need to have it bashed over your bloody heads a few times before you understand a thing."
"Things are changing. Get used to it, you sods!"
Andrael watched the chaos stoically from her position near the front of the Slytherins. She was not at the front, noticing that the halfbloods were shoved to the back. They were clearly marked as less than the rest.
Still, the bat-like headmaster presided over them, blending into the dark marble and shadow. Andrael was willing to wager she was the only one that saw him, hands clasped behind his back, expression inscrutable from this distance.
Where were the rest of the staff? Flitwick, and McGonagall, and Slughorn, and Sprout? Inside, perhaps?
Andrael glanced over at Daphne, who was shivering slightly in the cold. Dementors swooped over the miserable students, trailing their noxious fog through the night.
The order came to march, and the formation set off, approaching the Entrance Hall. The Death Eaters kicked at people that weren't stepping high enough. Fear permeated the air, radiating out from the younger years. Andrael schooled her face into stone. Stealthily, she handed the girl her scarf, resting her hand near her wand. She wanted to be prepared for anything.
The castle felt colder, but it wasn't just the temperature. The shadows seemed more insidious, the torches in their sconces flickering eerily. Each footstep echoed ominously as they marched in unison over the flagstones. The grand staircase, once regal, looked foreboding. Mist swirled in the corners of the room, making patterns as movement stirred it around.
Alecto gestured for two Death Eaters near the front to open the double doors into the Great Hall. Craning her neck, Andrael could see the Professors sitting at the staff table, each one more rigid than the last. Snape sat, poised in the centre of them.
How had he gotten down here so fast…? Had Andrael imagined seeing him up on the rooftop? Perhaps it had just been a stary bit of banner… but somehow she doubted this seemingly plausible explanation. If she couldn't trust her eyes, what could she trust?
As they filed in, the students took their seats at each of the four house tables. The candles seemed dimmer than usual, the luminous ceiling marred by the dementor's fog. Andrael scanned the faces of the teachers. Sprout had a suspicious tightness in her jaw. Slughorn looked a bit panicked, Flitwick merely concerned. They were not any happier with these changes than the students were.
McGonagall's seat was conspicuously empty, likely out with the first-years. Andrael was a little surprised that Snape still trusted her with that duty.
The ghosts started to float through the walls, entering the Great Hall, a sure sign that the students wouldn't be too far behind them. She noticed they hung back more than usual, clinging to the walls instead of socialising with the students. Amycus shot them a nasty glare.
The first years filed in in a quiet line, whispers quieting in the hush of the hall. McGonagall strode, straight-backed at the front of the line, the sorting hat and its stool in her hands. Andrael gave her a lot of credit; she looked no different than usual. Stepping back, she stared at the hat with the rest of the hall, holding their breaths in anticipation.
The familiar rip opened as it settled itself, its mouth curving into a bittersweet smile. She could've sworn it looked at the headmaster before facing the new students, as it began to sing.
Once, I sang of courage true,
Of friendship and of lore,
Of cunning minds, and hearts of gold—
Such things are no more.
The light has dimmed, the skies are grey,
The past we had is gone.
And here, within these hallowed halls,
Our shadows linger on.
Yet here you stand, with lives ahead,
To choose your fated way—
So listen well, heed all I say,
For houses I'll array:
The lion bold has lost its roar,
In quiet strength it stays;
Your bravery is always there,
The light to guide your ways.
The snake now coils in shadow deep,
Its cunning valued more than ever;
But ambition is a double-edged sword,
Its consequences leaving never.
The eagle sharp and mind alight
Seeks knowledge pure and keen;
Curiosity sheds light on every truth,
To find the secrets yet unseen.
And badgers now, in silent watch,
Loyal and hard-working still;
Endure among this motley crew,
Unrivalled in your pure sheer will.
So heed the call, and choose your path,
But know the times are dire;
In halls where wings once boldly soared,
Beware the serpent's ire.
The students clapped politely as it gave its signature bows to each of the four tables. The Hall quieted quickly as Minerva McGonagall pulled a scroll from thin air. The crinkle of parchment as she rolled it open was the only noise, echoing ominously.
"Abrignole, Providence."
The first name had been called. A small girl stepped up, placing the hat on her head with hesitant hands. An answer was delivered mere moments later.
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table in blue clapped, trying to smile in the oppressive hall. Providence Abrignole had just been sentenced to seven years as a second-class citizen.
"Anduvaulle, Henry."
The boy carried himself with much more confidence, and it was soon clear why.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The applause was much more enthusiastic for him as he took his place at the table, high fiving the second years with a smug smile.
The sorting continued in this vein, about half of the students making their way to the den of the serpents. There were much fewer students than usual, many of which touted prominent pureblood names. Andrael herself was impassive, clapping only for the Slytherins as was expected.
Finally, as Yaxley, Louisiana was sorted into Slytherin, the sorting was finished.
The Hall turned to the podium with bated breath. Allowing the hush to endure for a moment, Professor Snape finally stood, walking slowly to the front.
"Students of Hogwarts," Snape's voice rang through the Great Hall, cold and cutting. "Change has come to these halls, and the… wiser among you would do well to embrace it." His eyes bored into the Gryffindors.
"You will notice some new additions to our staff." He gestured toward the two beady-eyed figures seated at the staff table, wearing twin smirks. "Professor Amycus Carrow will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and his sister, Professor Alecto Carrow, will be instructing Muggle Studies, a subject now mandatory for all students. You may expect a more… realistic approach to your education in both subjects.
"Additionally, all students are required to attend marching formations and drills every weekday in the courtyard following lunch. You will learn discipline and resilience—traits that have been neglected far too long." Andrael could tell he rather didn't mind this point.
"On the matter of discipline," Snape paused, allowing his words to settle. "I must remind you that any disregard for the rules will be dealt with severely. You have perhaps already seen that corporal punishment is now reinstated as a corrective measure for those of you who fail to remember your place."
"The Ministry has obviously arranged for Dementors to safeguard the perimeter of the grounds. You are reminded not to wander near them for your own safety." His tone was almost mocking, wondering who would be stupid enough. "Patronuses will be permitted on the grounds only. Additionally, Hogsmeade is under tighter supervision, with Death Eaters patrolling the village. They are there for your protection, though I doubt they will be as tolerant of any youthful indiscretions as your teachers."
Snape's gaze swept across the hall, his expression impenetrable. "Though much has changed, let it be known that the rules remain the same in essence. You are still expected to attend your classes, achieve respectable grades, and behave as students should. Abide by the structure laid before you, and perhaps your time here will be endurable."
He paused, as if the next words required precise care. "And now, a few announcements. As always, the Forbidden Forest remains out of bounds to all students, yet its residents are more… volatile… than usual. Once classes have started, a new Duelling Club will be established for those wishing to hone their defensive skills. Mr. Filch wishes me to advise you that all forms of contraband will be confiscated immediately, and consequences for possession have become far more… severe." His gaze turned icy. "I trust you will make the wise decision not to test this."
Finally, Snape's voice dropped, but its chill remained. "One last matter. Dumbledore's Army… or any such child renegade group with a similar purpose, is not to be present in this school. Any affiliation or communication with such a group will result in dire consequences."
The attention of the hall turned to a few certain Gryffindors. To his credit, Neville Longbottom didn't flinch.
"That will be all. Remember, obedience and discipline will serve you best this year. Take part in this feast and I will soon dismiss you to follow your prefects back to your dorms. And only your dorms."
Andrael rolled her eyes as his gaze picked her out of the crowd. She was never going to live that down.
"Now eat." He flicked his wand, and food appeared set out across the tables. The noise level rose slowly as students hesitated to speak, but within a few minutes, the feast almost seemed normal.
Andrael just listened as students gossiped about their summers, surprised to find most of her year doing the same. Theo and Blaise had snuck their chessboard back out and were playing in relative silence Daphne picked at her food. Millicent was talking to Crabbe and Goyle, laughing occasionally. Draco and Pansy sat next to each other, their heads bent together as they spoke in hushed voices.
"Is everything alright over here?" Andrael said curiously.
They shut up immediately.
"We're fine, Cassowary." Pansy scowled at her.
Draco nodded assent. "Head Boy and Girl stuff…" he added weakly.
"Riiiight…" she said, clearly not buying it.
"Just shut up, why don't you? You're so bloody annoying…"
"What's your problem, Parkinson?" Andrael said calmly.
"You're a halfblood poking your nose in my business for no good reason. First the carriages, now here… I don't owe you anything." She spat.
"Fair enough. I do make a better friend than enemy, though." Andrael tread lightly, realising she was going to need to be more subtle with Pansy in the future.
"Is that a threat?"
"Merely a fact."
Draco eyed them warily. "Look. I have enough problems this year. I don't need you lot fighting."
"Fine by me," Andrael said.
"Whatever." Pansy pointedly turned away from her, returning to eat in silence.
Draco shrugged. He looked absolutely exhausted. Andrael gave him a simple nod.
So Draco wanted to keep the Slytherin seventh years unified. That was curious. She watched him yank on his sleeve again, knowing that every inch it rode up could expose the Dark Mark she knew she would find under there. He seemed utterly paranoid about it, despite the rapidly altered political climate.
All too soon, it was time to head back to the dormitories. Andrael was tempted to go to the third floor corridor on the right hand side just for old times' sake, but decided against it. She wouldn't put it past Snape to post a guard at the door just to spite her for spiting him. With all the Death Eaters at his disposal in Hogsmeade, she knew some of her plans were going to need to adapt.
So she trudged downstairs to the dungeons with her classmates, Draco, Pansy, and the prefects leading the firsties at the head of the pack. Overnight, Slytherin had gone from the shunned house to the nexus of power. It was a sobering lesson.
Draco informed their knot of students of the new password, mors comedentis, and the wall slid open to reveal their common room. It was the only part of the castle that Adrael could say for certain was untouched, looking quite the same as it always did.
She didn't care to stick around, travelling down the stone corridor to her dormitory. Andrael made a mental list of all the things she would need to do the next day; establish spy routes, figure out what the Carrows were like, refurbish her lab for use… With Snape's minions skulking about, she was going to need to be extra careful now.
She collapsed into bed, ignoring the others. A while later, Pansy came in, finished with the first years. She shot a wordless glare for Andrael.
Mean. There was no need for that. Rational had been running on overdrive the entire day, trying not to forget a single detail of her experience.
She doesn't like us… Slytherin seemed to find the prospect intriguing. But she doesn't need to like us, though. She just needs to respect us, or fear us.
I don't think she's exclusively mad at us… Speculative was quiet.
Andrael sighed. She'd add it to her list of things to figure out tomorrow.
Today had been a wake-up call. A serious wake-up call. She didn't know nearly as much as she thought she did. And that was a problem.