Staying Vigilant

"So, Sal, are you going to the game today?" Tulip asked as she slid into the seat across from him in the Great Hall.

"It's Harry's first match," Tonks added, grinning. "You know how much Sirius has been hyping him up. Might as well see if he lives up to the family reputation."

Sal glanced up from his book, considering. "After last night, I could use a distraction. Besides, I have a feeling it's going to be an interesting game."

The stadium buzzed with excitement as students filled the stands, bundled up against the crisp autumn air. Gryffindor and Slytherin banners waved in the wind as Madam Hooch signaled the start of the match. It wasn't long before Gryffindor took the first goal, sending the Gryffindor supporters into cheers.

Sal was about to comment on the game when something caught his attention.

"Do you guys see that?" he asked, frowning.

"See what?" Tonks turned to him, brows furrowed.

"Harry's broom," Sal said, his voice laced with unease.

Harry's broomstick was jerking erratically, bucking beneath him like a wild animal. At first, it almost seemed like he had just lost control, but the longer Sal watched, the clearer it became—someone was tampering with it.

"That's not normal," Tulip whispered, eyes wide.

The stands were slowly catching on as people gasped and pointed. Even Madam Hooch hesitated, seemingly unsure of what to do. Harry clung to the handle, barely managing to stay on.

"I'm going to the professor's booth," Sal muttered, already pushing through the crowd. But before he could reach it, a commotion broke out. Gasps and murmurs spread through the stands like wildfire, and then—suddenly—Harry's broom steadied.

"What in Merlin's name…" Sal trailed off as he watched Harry regain control. Moments later, the game continued as if nothing had happened.

By the end of the match, Gryffindor had won—thanks to Harry catching the Snitch in his mouth, of all things.

"Okay, am I the only one that thought what happened was weird?" Sal asked as they sat down for dinner.

"You mean the part where Harry caught the Snitch with his teeth?" Tulip snorted. "Because honestly, that's one of the funniest things I've ever seen."

Tonks grinned. "I can't wait to tell Sirius. He's never going to let Harry live that down."

Sal rolled his eyes. "Yes, that was ridiculous, but I was talking about his broom."

Tulip frowned. "I guess it did act up for a bit. What do you think happened?"

"I think someone jinxed it," Sal said seriously.

Tonks leaned in, intrigued. "Well, Slytherin's been known to cheat in Quidditch."

"I thought about that, but I didn't want to accuse anyone without proof," Sal admitted. "I was going to bring it up to Professor McGonagall, but without knowing who did it, I wasn't sure if it'd help."

"It couldn't hurt," Tulip pointed out. "I mean, Harry could've been seriously injured. Even if they don't catch who did it, at least the professors will be on alert for next time."

"You're right," Sal sighed. "I'll talk to her tomorrow."

After Transfiguration class the next day, Sal lingered by the professor's desk while the rest of the students shuffled out.

"Professor, I was hoping to talk to you about the game yesterday," he said.

McGonagall looked up over her square glasses. "What about it, Mr. Cross?"

Sal hesitated for only a moment before continuing. "I think Harry's broom was jinxed. I wasn't sure if I should bring it up since I don't know who did it, but Tulip said it wouldn't hurt to let you know."

McGonagall pursed her lips, nodding. "Yes, I believe it was as well. However, like you, I don't know who was responsible."

Sal's brow furrowed. "Could it have been someone on the Slytherin team?"

"I confronted Professor Snape about that possibility," McGonagall admitted. "I made it clear that if any of his players were caught cheating, they would be expelled immediately. He assured me that no one on the team was responsible—and I had no reason to doubt him."

Sal considered this. "That means it was someone outside of the game… watching from the stands."

McGonagall nodded. "Precisely. Which makes it all the more concerning. But without evidence, there is little we can do for now."

Sal sighed, frustrated but understanding. "As long as it doesn't happen again, I suppose that's the best we can hope for. But I'd still prefer to know who did it."

"You and me both, Mr. Cross," McGonagall agreed. "But thank you for bringing it to my attention. I'll be keeping a closer eye on future matches."

"Thanks, Professor," Sal said before heading off, his mind still turning over the possibilities.

As the staff gathered, Albus Dumbledore steepled his fingers, glancing around at the gathered professors. The issue of Harry's broom had raised enough concern to warrant a discussion, but there was another student who continued to capture their attention: Salazar Cross.

"Now that everyone is here, let's discuss the most recent incident—Mr. Potter's broom," Dumbledore began.

Minerva McGonagall gave a small nod. "We weren't the only ones that noticed something was amiss. Mr. Cross brought it to my attention immediately."

"That boy is always watching," Severus Snape muttered. "I would have been more surprised if he hadn't noticed."

Filius Flitwick chuckled. "He certainly does have an eye for detail, and an inquisitive mind to match. I checked Mr. Potter's broom after the incident—there was no direct sabotage. I suspect a jinx rather than a physical alteration."

"Then the question remains—who would do such a thing?" Pomona Sprout asked, frowning. "If it was a student, they'd need considerable skill. And if it was a teacher…" She trailed off, but they all knew who she was implying.

Quirinus Quirrell flinched at her words, avoiding their gazes. Dumbledore's blue eyes flickered toward him for only a second before moving on.

"The troll incident still troubles me more," Severus said smoothly, changing the topic. "It should have been impossible for a troll to get in undetected. And yet, had it not been for Mr. Cross, we might have lost a student that night."

"I'll admit, he's proven himself," Minerva said, her voice softer than usual. "There is something about him… He has the makings of a leader."

"He is a remarkable talent," Flitwick agreed. "He adapts quickly, thinks outside the box, and has a remarkable understanding of magic. I suspect his enchanted runes are far beyond even some seventh years."

Sprout nodded in agreement. "I've seen him with the students. He helps without hesitation. Neville Longbottom is more confident since he intervened with the wand issue. I believe he would make an excellent mentor."

Snape, as expected, refused to praise Sal openly. "His skills in potions are serviceable," he said begrudgingly. "At the very least, he has prevented a few first-years from blowing up their cauldrons. But I wonder… for all his talent, what is his end goal?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Perhaps that is something we should all seek to discover."

"I propose a new approach," Dumbledore continued, leaning forward. "Salazar is a prodigy, but he is still young. He needs guidance—not just academically, but as someone who will likely play an important role in our world. Therefore, I would like to officially take him on as a teaching assistant."

"I don't see a problem with it," Flitwick said. "It might even help lighten his workload."

"And his ego," Snape muttered under his breath.

"Good," Dumbledore said, letting their murmurs settle. "Then it is decided. We shall see how he handles this new responsibility."

With that, the meeting adjourned, but there was a quiet understanding among the professors—Salazar Cross was not just another student. He was a force in the making.

Sal arrived back in Albion, eager to take a short break from Hogwarts. It wasn't long before he found himself in Julius Novachrono's office, alongside Yami Sukehiro.

"Sal! I was just thinking about you," Julius said with a grin. "I hear you took down a troll single-handedly. That must have been an experience."

Sal shrugged. "It wasn't that big of a deal."

Yami let out a bark of laughter. "Kid, only you would say something like that."

Julius leaned forward, studying him. "Tell me, did it feel different? Using magic to protect someone rather than just in training?"

Sal thought about Hermione—about how close she had come to getting hurt. "It did. When I'm dueling, it's all strategy, movement, and predicting the opponent. But in that moment, it wasn't about winning. It was about making sure someone else didn't lose their life."

Julius smiled. "That, my dear student, is the difference between power and leadership."

Sal glanced at Yami. "So, am I getting tested again?"

Yami smirked, tossing him a wooden training sword. "Obviously. You may have the magic down, but I wanna see how well your footwork's improved."

The sparring session was intense. Yami, never one for holding back, pushed Sal hard. But this time, Sal used what he had learned from his previous fights—turning Yami's strength against him, dodging at the last second, anticipating counters. He even incorporated magic into his movements, subtly reinforcing his grip and balancing his stance.

When Yami finally knocked the sword from Sal's hand, he nodded in approval. "Not bad, kid. Still got a long way to go, but you're not hopeless."

Sal grinned. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Julius chuckled, stepping between them. "Alright, enough sparring. Sal, I need to ask—what are your plans after Hogwarts?"

Sal hesitated. "Honestly? I don't know. There's so much I want to do—dueling, enchanting, research. And now I'm a teacher's assistant."

Julius nodded. "It's alright not to have an answer yet. But remember—power alone doesn't shape the world. It's how you use it."

Yami crossed his arms. "Yeah, yeah, enough with the life lessons. Let's get some food."

Sal laughed. "Now that's a good idea."

As they walked toward the dining hall, Sal realized that no matter where he ended up, he was surrounded by people who would push him to be his best. And for now, that was enough.

After training with Julius and Yami, Sal returned home to spend some time with his mother, Lindsey. It had been a while since they had a quiet moment together—between her responsibilities as Minister of Magic and his ever-growing workload at Hogwarts, their time together had become more and more scarce. Tonight, however, they had the rare luxury of sitting in their family's study, a warm fire crackling in the hearth.

Lindsey poured herself a glass of wine and gestured toward the chair across from her. "Come, sit. We haven't had a proper talk in a while."

Sal took a seat, studying her. His mother always carried herself with confidence, but he could see the exhaustion beneath her composed exterior. "Long day?"

Lindsey sighed, swirling the wine in her glass. "Every day is a long day in politics, my dear. And with Fudge out of the way, I've had to work twice as hard to clean up his mess."

Sal leaned back in his chair. "I figured. You know, you don't have to do it all alone."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering to help me run the Ministry now, too? Teaching at Hogwarts isn't enough?"

Sal smirked. "Hard pass on that. But I have been keeping an eye on things."

"I suspected as much." Lindsey's expression softened. "Your last letter was insightful. You were right about needing allies—Dumbledore especially."

Sal nodded. "He's too powerful politically to ignore. He doesn't play the same games as the rest of the Wizengamot, but that just makes him more dangerous in a way. People trust him, and trust is more powerful than gold or influence."

Lindsey took a sip of her wine, impressed. "You sound like someone who's been in the game for years."

"I've been paying attention," Sal admitted. "Besides, I have Julius teaching me strategy, and you've taught me plenty without even realizing it."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "I should've known you'd take to this like a duck to water. But tell me something, Sal—why are you paying such close attention? You have a bright future ahead of you, but I can't tell if you're preparing for something… or if you're searching for something."

Sal hesitated. For all his intelligence, for all his planning, that was the one question he didn't have a solid answer to.

"I guess… I just don't like being unprepared," he admitted. "Everywhere I look, I see problems that need solving—at Hogwarts, in the Ministry, even in Albion. And it's frustrating knowing I'm still too young to do much about any of it."

Lindsey studied him for a long moment, then set her glass down. "You remind me of your father."

Sal looked up sharply. His mother rarely spoke about his father.

"He was the same way," Lindsey continued. "Always looking ahead, always searching for answers. It's a burden, carrying that much knowledge, trying to see the world as a chessboard instead of just living in it."

Sal frowned. "I don't see the world as a chessboard."

She gave him a knowing look. "Don't you? You made an alliance with the Weasley twins to expand your joke shop. You helped me broker a deal with the Goblins to secure my political position. You're watching over Harry Potter because you know he's going to be important, even if he doesn't realize it yet."

Sal exhaled, rubbing his temples. "Alright, maybe I do see it that way sometimes."

Lindsey reached across the table and placed a hand on his. "That's not a bad thing, Sal. It's a gift. But you have to be careful not to lose yourself in it."

Sal looked at her, seeing the exhaustion, the quiet wisdom in her gaze. "And how do I do that?"

She smiled faintly. "You find people who remind you to live. Julius, Yami, your friends at Hogwarts—they all bring something different to your life. Hold onto that. Power and intelligence will get you far, but it's the people you care about who will keep you grounded."

Sal nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lindsey squeezed his hand before leaning back in her chair. "Good. Now, enough politics for one night. Tell me something fun—what's the most ridiculous thing that's happened at Hogwarts this year?"

Sal smirked. "How much time do you have?"

And for the first time in a long time, they simply talked—not as a Minister and a strategist, but as a mother and her son.