Chapter 49. Control, a new partner and glowing orange eyes.
Jakob returned to his dorm feeling particularly good and opened room thirteen to be met by a still-sleeping Pansy.
A smile graced his face as he grabbed the note he had written, walked inside the bathroom, and took a quick shower.
Once dressed, Jakob stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately landing on Pansy, still curled up in sleep. He moved to the bed, settling beside her, reaching out to brush aside a loose strand of hair that had fallen across her face.
She had changed over the three years.
Her hair was longer now, framing her face with soft waves, and her features had sharpened, not drastically, but enough for him to notice. The girl had grown up and was steadily turning into a young woman. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing along the curve of her jaw.
Pansy stirred at the touch, her eyelashes fluttering as she slowly woke, offering him a drowsy smile.
"Good morning," she murmured, stretching—only to freeze mid-motion as realisation struck.
In an instant, her entire demeanour shifted as the memories from last night began to surface.
She quickly sat up, not meeting his eyes, her arms moving instinctively to create space between them.
"Oh no, you don't," said Jakob, grabbing her arm and embracing the girl, who screamed in surprise as he dragged her back down to bed with him.
"You are not avoiding me or making my head fill with questions today. We are going to have fun and feel great; otherwise, this awaits you," laughed the black-haired boy as he started to tickle the girl, who screamed and laughed simultaneously.
"Jakob, stop! I can't breathe!" Pansy pleaded, but to no avail. Jakob kept tickling her, and her feeble attempt to retaliate failed as she succumbed to her enemy's attacks. When it was over, they lay in bed, staring at each other for a few moments before Pansy started the conversation they needed to have.
" Jakob about yesterday. I… I know what I did was wrong. And Draco… shit, what have I done!" she almost yelled as she remembered the blonde and Jakob rolled his eyes.
He leaned in and kissed her again. Pansy responded to it and briefly closed her eyes before staring at him for a few seconds. She opened her mouth to say something but chose to continue the kiss instead and lifted her arms around him, holding on to the boy she knew she couldn't resist. When they were done saying good morning, He released the kiss and looked at her.
"Relax," he murmured in a low, reassuring tone. "It's not the end of the world. Our secret. Right?" He questioned, giving her a wink.
Still slightly breathless, Pansy shifted off him and onto her side, nodding. She let the silence settle between them for a moment before finally voicing the last question that was nagging her.
"Um, Jakob… don't you and Amy have a thing? And Daphne? And... should I be expecting any more names to pop up?"
Jakob frowned, knowing full well that his answer had the potential to dig him into a hole. He considered his words carefully before sighing. "I've been with a lot of girls. It isn't just Amy. There was even a girl, Rach—" His hand shot up, clamping over his mouth before he could finish, his eyes widening as he realised what had almost slipped.
Pansy's expression shifted from curiosity to shock. The silence was deafening before she burst out into a surprised laugh.
"You idiot," she snickered. "You forgot, didn't you?"
Jakob groaned, closing his eyes and wished that he would disappear. The damn blood ritual. He had completely overlooked the fact that it still punished any attempt to lie with the complete truth.
Pansy, thoroughly enjoying herself now, propped her head up with her hand, smirking. "Jakob... you are a bit of a slut, aren't you?"
Jakob sighed, dropping his hand and shooting her an unimpressed look. "Yes, apparently, I am. And thank you for that excellent observation," he deadpanned.
Pansy only laughed harder.
"Only you and Amy are the ones I actually intended to kiss," he admitted with a measured tone. "The rest… either started it or were accidents."
Pansy narrowed her eyes, not entirely satisfied with that answer. "Mind telling me their names?" she asked, trying to sound casual, though the slight edge of jealousy in her voice betrayed her.
Jakob let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tell you what," he said after a moment. "I'll give you one name. Just one. After that, no more questions, and we drop this conversation for now. Deal?"
She hesitated, but curiosity won out. With a small nod, she agreed. "Deal."
Jakob smirked as he leaned back against the pillows. "One of them is named Rachel. And no, you don't know her. And no," he added before she could press further, "I don't believe I'll ever see her again."
His triumphant smile made it clear he had played this conversation exactly how he wanted.
Pansy frowned, knowing she had just walked straight into his trap.
She was about to retort when another thought popped into her mind, making her look away. Jakob, noticing the shift, gently nudged her.
"Pansy, what is it?"
She hesitated for a moment before taking a quiet breath, then finally spoke.
"Jake… when we get exclusive with someone, we have to stop this," Pansy admitted in a lower, quieter tone. "You're an heir of an Ancient and Noble House and sooner or later, we'll be betrothed. My father told me he's expecting Lord Malfoy's letter any day now."
Jakob remained silent, watching her, waiting for Pansy to continue.
"If we don't help each other, we'll both be disowned," she finished, finally meeting his gaze.
Of course, Jakob knew all of this already. It was one of the biggest reasons he believed Pansy had fixated on Draco in the first place, not because she loved him, but because she had to. She had to make it convincing and play the role expected of her.
Being a wizard, the rules were looser. As long as he didn't put a child in the wrong girl, he had options. But witches? It was different for them. Prominent families wouldn't consider a witch for their heir if she had been with another before marriage. Purity was more than just blood to them.
As for Jakob, he had no idea who his father had in mind. Perhaps Daphne? That would be a logical, advantageous match for the Quade family. But in the end, he was certain of one thing, Thomas Quade would choose whoever would strengthen their house the most. Feelings were irrelevant.
He leaned back slightly, studying her expression. Then, with a small smirk, he said, "We'll stop when that day comes. But until then…"
He leaned in.
Pansy, who had been chewing on her lip, lost in thought, snapped back to the moment when she saw him closing in. A slow smile curled on her lips as she welcomed his kiss without hesitation.
"I…have…waited…for…this…a…long…long…time…" she murmured between kisses.
Jakob hummed in agreement. "We…both…have…"
Then, abruptly, he pulled away.
"Shit, we need to get down for breakfast."
Still holding onto him, Pansy tightened her grip, reluctant to let go just yet. But then, her stomach let out a loud growl, betraying her. She groaned, shooting a glare down at herself before exhaling in frustration.
Jakob, who had already stood up, smirked at her with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Don't look so put out. You'll have me all to yourself every night."
Pansy rolled her eyes, but the way her lips twitched upward gave her away. Instead of responding, she stood on her toes, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before slipping away into the bathroom without another word.
Jakob sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head. A small, amused smile became known as he grabbed his things and exited the room.
As he stepped into the common room, Jakob's eyes immediately landed on Draco and Theo, who were sitting on the couch, engaged in what appeared to be a heated discussion with Daphne and Blaise.
Daphne, who had just rolled her eyes, looked particularly unimpressed while Blaise leaned back, watching the exchange with mild amusement.
Jakob frowned, approaching them, noting the irritation etched across Daphne's face.
"You have no idea what you're talking about. Why would you even think Care of Magical Creatures is a good option?" Daphne snapped, crossing her arms. "The half-troll is incompetent at best."
Theo exasperatedly shook his head. "Open those closed ears, Greengrass. I don't care! It's an easy mark, and I—" He suddenly turned his attention to Jakob, who had approached them. " Tell her!"
Jakob took a seat, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I have no idea what you two are fighting over. But I do know that people are watching and sniggering while you argue over something so absurd."
The two blondes hesitated, glancing around the common room. Sure enough, a few amused Slytherins had turned their attention toward them, whispering to one another with barely concealed smirks.
Draco let out a sharp sigh, shaking his head before adopting a calmer, more composed tone. "Daphne thinks I'm an idiot for choosing Care of Magical Creatures, and I think she's an idiot for picking Runes. She keeps going on about how 'runes are superior' while conveniently forgetting that the subject is infamous for making students drop out."
Jakob leaned back with a thoughtful expression. He glanced at Draco before finally shrugging. "I picked both Runes and Creatures. Hagrid might be a troll, but you have to admit, he knows his creatures better than anyone."
All four of them stared at Jakob, momentarily stunned. Had he just… given Hagrid a compliment.
Daphne blinked, looking genuinely baffled. "You actually think—?"
"Well, that settles it," Jakob interrupted, pushing himself up and stretching before casually heading toward the exit. "Enjoy the rest of your argument, yeah?"
He left without another word, making his way toward the Great Hall.
Jakob sat with his back toward the Ravenclaw table, absentmindedly picking at his breakfast while listening to the faint murmur of conversation around him.
"Have you heard about the attacks in America?" an older Ravenclaw muttered to his companion in a hushed tone.
"Yeah, horrible. Whole families wiped out," the other replied in a Grimm tone.
"I don't know what you see in her," Draco muttered in a borderline exasperated tone.
Jakob's heart nearly stopped.
Had Pansy told Draco?
He forced his expression to remain neutral, turning to his friend with a carefully crafted look of feigned confusion. "What?"
Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "Don't play dumb. You know exactly who I'm talking about."
Jakob leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "What did she—"
"Don't act like you weren't there," Draco cut him off, taking a bite of his toast. "You heard what Daphne said."
Jakob let out a slow exhale, masking his relief behind a sip of pumpkin juice. So that's what this was about.
Without another word, he turned his attention back to his plate, focusing on his toast and scrambled eggs.
The Great Hall slowly filled with the morning rush as the rest of the Slytherins arrived. Owls swooped in through the high windows, gliding down to deliver newspapers, letters, and small parcels from home. Jakob barely glanced up as a school owl skimmed low over the table, dropping a neatly folded copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him before turning and flying off again.
"I didn't know you subscribed to that," Pansy remarked, sliding into the seat across from him.
Draco, who had just unfolded a letter from his father, glanced up at the sound of her voice. When their eyes met, Pansy quickly averted her gaze, hesitating before picking up a boiled egg. She tapped it lightly against the table in slow motion and peeled away the shell, pretending to be absorbed in the task.
Still watching her, Jakob hummed. "I don't want any more surprises," he said flatly.
Pansy stilled for a fraction of a second before continuing to peel her egg.
Ignoring the tension, Jakob flipped open the paper, letting his eyes scan the headlines. He skimmed past the usual drivel, political scandals, Quidditch updates, and some nonsense about the latest trend in wizarding robes until something further down the page caught his eye.
His brows drew together slightly as he read.
The Dangerous Old Woman
By Leslie Knuckle
Reports from the MACUSA confirm that a notorious leader of the NSPS (New Salem Philanthropic Society) was willingly taken into custody outside their headquarters in New York.
When Aurors apprehended Modesty Barebone for questioning, she delivered a confession that painted a chilling picture.
Modesty Barebone, daughter of the infamous Mary Lou Barebone, had continued her mother's twisted legacy. She admitted to orchestrating the capture and murder of countless witches and wizards, revealing not only the methods used but also a detailed list of her victims. Moments after her confession, the elderly woman took her own life using a concealed razor.
One of the Aurors present had this to say:
"When we found her, she seemed dazed, almost like she had been cursed. At first, it was impossible to believe an old Muggle could be behind such atrocities. But then we discovered the book she had been carrying—the same one from which she retrieved the razor."
Inside its pages was a list containing the names of numerous missing witches and wizards from across the world. It is nothing short of a miracle that she came forward before taking her own life, allowing at least some measure of closure for the victims' families.
And yet, the most haunting question remains:
How could an ordinary Muggle be responsible for so much death? Are there more like her? How safe are we truly, or are we simply blind to the dangers lurking around us?
Stay with us as we continue to follow this developing story.
Jakob set the newspaper down, sliding it across the table toward Draco. The blond took it, his expression twisting in disgust as he scanned the article. With a sneer, he shoved it toward Theo, who took it without a word. Pansy leaned in as well, her eyes skimming the page.
"Good riddance," she muttered, flipping it shut with little care. The three boys nodded in agreement.
Theo furrowed his brows as he tapped his fingers against the table. "Why do they even think there could be more? She had a cursed object, for Merlin's sake. The woman was clearly unstable."
Jakob didn't answer. He knew that there was more of them. Rachel had told him that the organisation had grown larger and had even branched into European Territory.
Completely absorbed in his thoughts, Jakob failed to notice the looming presence behind him until a familiar voice cut through his distraction.
"Your timetables," Snape intoned, his voice as flat and indifferent as ever as he placed the schedules in front of them.
Jakob blinked, refocusing as Snape moved swiftly, barely sparing them another glance before his gaze locked onto the Gryffindor table. Without hesitation, he turned sharply and strode in their direction, his robes billowing behind him like a shadow cutting through the Great Hall.
Jakob watched with mild amusement as his head of house docked points from the Potter boy for some unknown infraction. Whatever the reason, it only fueled the Gryffindor's glare towards the potion professor.
Lily had just entered the Great Hall alongside Dumbledore, and upon noticing the commotion, she made her way over.
The tension in the hall shifted as students began to tune in, eager to see if the new professor would dare to challenge the long-standing terror of Hogwarts. Dumbledore stood behind them, offering no indication that he intended to intervene.
The brief exchange ended as it always did, Harry losing points, Snape storming off, his robes trailing dramatically behind him, and Lily, rather than acknowledging her son, simply turning on her heel and making her way toward the staff table.
Jakob, unimpressed by the theatrics, glanced down at his timetable. Ancient Runes first, then lunch, followed by a double period of Defense Against the Dark Arts. He nodded approvingly.
At least the day wouldn't be a complete waste.
Excusing himself, Jakob left the Great Hall, deciding to get to class early. Ancient Runes had been a subject he'd looked forward to ever since he started experimenting with rituals in his first year, and he wanted a good seat.
He moved swiftly through the corridors, taking the moving staircase up to the sixth floor. As he stepped onto the landing, his pace slowed when he spotted Professor Webb standing just outside his after-school activity classroom, her gaze fixed on the door with quiet fascination.
Jakob frowned as he approached, watching her closely. The blonde professor maintained her strict authority and severe expression, yet there was something else—a glimmer in her eyes that made him cautious.
"Good morning, Heir Quade," she greeted without turning, her focus still on the door. "I must say, I'm quite impressed with the room you've chosen to house your after-class activity."
Jakob paused mid-step, momentarily caught off guard by her remark. Had she been watching him all along?
"Professor Webb," he replied carefully, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
The older woman finally looked at him, her sharp gaze pinning him in place. Slowly, she raised a single finger and wagged it from side to side, a disapproving yet amused smirk slowly curving her lips.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. I don't appreciate being lied to, Mr. Quade. It's a disgusting habit, and you will be punished for it." She let the words linger before sighing, her attention drifting back to the door. "But that will have to wait."
Jakob remained still, his frown deepening as he studied her. He didn't like how she spoke to him as if she knew something he didn't.
"Are you planning to keep the activity up this year?" she questioned in a neutral tone, but her gaze held something sharper.
Jakob gave a small shrug, keeping his expression unreadable. "It was a one-year thing," he explained smoothly. "But I might continue if I have the time."
Professor Webb hummed, finally turning her sharp gaze away from the door to look at him properly. Her expression remained unreadable, though something in how she studied him put Jakob on edge.
The woman turned and gave him an approving nod.
"You have an opportunity here. Make the best of it." She passed the boy and continued on her way out of the corridor, not looking back.
The Slytherin third-year frowned as he went to door 6b and waited for it to open.
With that, she strode past him, her robes sweeping lightly behind her as she disappeared down the corridor without looking back.
Jakob remained momentarily still, watching her leave before turning toward door 6B. He stood there, waiting for it to open, his mind still lingering on the interaction with the new professor.
It wasn't long before he heard footsteps approaching. As expected, Hermione arrived, her gaze sweeping the corridor cautiously. Jakob didn't miss the subtle movement as she quickly tucked something—a necklace, perhaps?—beneath her shirt before stepping closer.
She offered him a quick hug before stepping back and settling a few feet before him.
"Hey," she greeted in a light tone that carried an undercurrent of nervous energy.
Jakob returned a genuine smile. "Hello, Hermione. How was your summer?"
As he studied her, he couldn't help but notice the subtle changes since their last meeting.
Her hair had grown longer, falling in soft waves past her shoulders, and her facial features had sharpened slightly, a clear mark of maturity. She was taller now, and though her frame remained petite, her stance had a newfound grace. His eyes flickered barely a second before he caught himself. She had begun wearing a bra.
Hermione caught the flicker of his gaze, and, as if on instinct, a flush rose to her cheeks. She hastily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his eyes.
"It was fine," she answered, trying to regain her composure. To help herself, she thought of something, and a smirk slowly rose on her lips. "I got to spend some time with Ivy and the others… and I saw something really weird when we went to a concert." She said with a hint of mischief in her tone.
Jakob let out a sigh, already sensing where this was going. Shaking his head, he dropped onto the bench beside the door, resting his forearms on his knees as he glanced up at her expectantly.
"Would you believe me if I told you that I didn't know it was her and that I was drunk?" he asked, a touch of exasperation in his voice.
Hermione grinned, shaking her head without hesitation. "Not even for a second."
Jakob let his head fall back against the wall, releasing another sigh.
"Are you two… a thing now?" she asked curiously.
At that, Jakob immediately pushed himself off the bench, his expression one of pure disbelief.
"What? Why in the bloody hell would you think that?"
Hermione's smile faltered just slightly, and though it remained, Jakob caught the flicker of hesitation beneath it.
"I don't know," she admitted, shifting her weight as if debating whether to continue. "I just... you two would make a great couple. She really likes you, and—" Her words cut off abruptly, eyes widening in horror as she slapped a hand over her mouth.
Jakob's eyebrow arched. He glanced around quickly, ensuring they were still alone, before turning his gaze back to her, amusement creeping into his expression.
"Oh?" His tone was teasing, deliberate. "Does she now?"
Hermione groaned, looking absolutely mortified as she buried her face in her hands. "Jakob, you have to promise me that you won't tell her," she pleaded. "She would kill me if she knew."
He stopped right in front of her, still wearing that infuriatingly smug smile.
"It's fine," he assured the Gryffindor girl in a low voice. "It can be our little secret."
Hermione frowned, confused by the sudden shift in his expression as his grin widened.
"Besides," Jakob murmured in amusement, "you will always be my favorite Gryffindor."
Before she could even process his words, his arms were suddenly around her.
Hermione released a startled yelp as Jakob lifted her effortlessly off the ground and spun them around.
Her yelp quickly turned into bright, unrestrained laughter, her hands clutching at his shoulders. After a few seconds and a breathless, "Please, I'm getting sick," from Hermione, Jakob finally slowed and set her gently back down.
She wobbled slightly, still laughing as she caught her breath. The lingering sadness from earlier had vanished, replaced by that genuine, radiant smile he had been aiming for.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing with her?!"
Jakob's heart stopped.
For one foolish second, he had let his guard down, taking a chance, assuming, hoping, that they were safe here. A mistake. A stupid, reckless mistake that he now had to pay for.
Hermione, who had been smiling just moments ago, immediately tensed, preparing herself for whatever reaction Jakob was about to throw her way. She turned her head just as Sirius Black strode toward them with a dark and accusing expression directed at the Slytherin.
Jakob instinctively stepped back from her, widening the space between them as the Auror closed in.
Sirius barely spared him a glance before turning to Hermione. "Are you alright? Did he try to hurt you?"
Hermione's eyes flickered toward Jakob, but he was already looking away, his expression carefully schooled into a mask of indifference.
"No, Sirius, he wasn't—I'm alright. Umm… he… was just…" She hesitated, clearly scrambling for the right words.
Sirius, perceptive when it truly mattered, didn't miss the shift in her tone. His gaze slid back to Jakob, studying him. The boy stood still, composed almost to an unnatural degree. But Sirius had grown up surrounded by people who hid behind carefully constructed facades—he knew a mask when he saw one.
And Jakob Quade was wearing one now.
What lay beneath it, Sirius couldn't tell. But he doubted it was anything close to calm.
Then, his attention returned to Hermione. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her eyes flickered toward Jakob with that quiet, uncertain hesitation—like she feared she had said too much, done something wrong… Sirius had seen that look before.
Far too many times.
His brows lifted slightly as realisation dawned, and after a beat, he let out a short, knowing breath. Taking a step back, he raised his hands in a mockingly placating gesture.
"My mistake," he said easily, though his tone carried unmistakable amusement. "I'll leave you two to… whatever it is you kids get up to these days."
With an approving nod toward Jakob and a wink at Hermione, Sirius turned and walked off, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he was holding back laughter.
"Shit," Jakob muttered under his breath, casting a quick glance at Hermione.
"Wait here," he said briskly. "I just need to have a friendly chat with him."
Hermione's mouth opened, ready to protest, but Jakob was already moving, his strides long and purposeful as he followed the path Sirius had taken.
She hesitated, watching as the Auror disappeared around a corner, and, a moment later, Jakob slipped after him, keeping a measured distance.
Sirius walked with a steady, casual pace, but Jakob could tell—he knew. He wasn't careless.
I need to get that information from him, Jakob thought, quickening his steps as he rounded the same corner. His fingers twitched as he flicked out his wand, his mind already forming the incantation— But he stopped dead in his tracks.
Sirius was gone.
The corridor was empty.
Jakob barely had time to react before a voice came from just behind him.
"You really think you can sneak up on me, kid?" Sirius said in a smug, triumphant tone. "I'm an Auror. I was trained for this."
Jakob remained still, keeping his expression unreadable as he turned to meet Sirius's gaze. The older man stood there, looking far too smug for Jakob's liking, with his wand lazily pointed at him.
One day, Jakob silently promised himself. One day, I'll hex that smugness right off his face.
"Lord Black," he greeted coolly, keeping his voice even. "I wasn't trying to continue what you started on the train."
Sirius let out a scoff. "Sure, kid. That's why your wand was already out." He tilted his head. "You take me for an idiot?"
Jakob, for once, held his tongue. Giving his real thoughts on that question wouldn't serve him here, not when the man currently had the advantage.
Instead, he shifted tactics.
"I have a request to make."
Sirius arched an intrigued brow. "Oh, this ought to be good." He made a lazy gesture with his wand, silently prompting Jakob to continue.
"As you can see, Miss Granger and I are friends. But given my name, my house, and the family I come from… there will be consequences if certain people find out. Unpleasant ones. Especially from my family."
Sirius's smirk disappeared, replaced by something more serious. For a brief moment, his expression changed into—recognition, perhaps, or understanding—but whatever it was, it passed quickly.
His grip on his wand loosened before he lowered it entirely.
"You don't have to tell me about that, kid," he murmured, his tone devoid of its usual mockery. It wasn't quite sympathy, but it wasn't condescension either. "I'm a disowned Black. I know exactly what it means to go against family expectations."
Sirius studied Jakob carefully. "So... you don't buy into all that pureblood superiority crap, then?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge to it, a deliberate weight behind the question.
Jakob hesitated only for a fraction of a second, weighing his options. There was an opportunity here, a potential alliance, and Sirius had already shown that he could be persuaded if he could relate to the argument. In the grand scheme of things, there was little to lose.
"There is no difference," Jakob finally answered in an effortlessly neutral tone. "The soul is the same. Magical."
Sirius blinked, looking momentarily taken aback. He studied Jakob for a beat longer before letting out a quiet, incredulous chuckle.
"Well, that's not something you hear every day," he muttered, shaking his head. "A Slytherin admitting that muggle-borns and purebloods are the same."
Jakob held his gaze before sighing and giving a shrug. "Now you know my secret," he said evenly. "And you also know what happens if the wrong people find out." He slipped his wand back into his pocket, straightening before he lowered his voice. "So, I'd appreciate it if you kept it to yourself."
Then, without waiting for a response, Jakob turned and started to walk back.
"Hey, kid."
Jakob halted, glancing back over his shoulder.
Sirius was watching him with an expression that was difficult to read. The usual cocky smirk was there, but there was something else lingering beneath it, something warm, something almost akin to care.
"Lily told me about you," he said after a pause. "I never thought she was right. Not about a Slytherin, at least." He gave Jakob a nod as if seeing him differently now. "But I get it. I see what she sees in you."
Jakob didn't move or say anything as he waited for the words he needed to hear from the Auror.
"I won't say a word. I promise."
Jakob gave a small nod of acknowledgment but said nothing else. He simply turned and continued walking.
As he neared the end, his eyes landed on Hermione, who was standing there waiting, relief evident in the small smile she sent his way.
Jakob, however, barely acknowledged it. His mind was elsewhere.
On one hand, he was relieved. The Auror had promised to keep his secret, and despite Jakob's general mistrust of people, he didn't think Sirius Black was the type to break his word.
On the other hand, he hated that he now owed the man something.
Sirius had the advantage over him. And that didn't sit well.
No, Jakob needed to balance the scales. He needed information.
A thoughtful frown appeared as he slipped his hands into his pockets. Black had a well-documented reputation, full of rebellion, defiance, and a long, tangled history with the other noble houses.
Which meant there were gaps. Weaknesses.
And if there was one thing Jakob Quade excelled at, it was finding weaknesses and using them to his advantage.
As Jakob settled into his seat for his first Ancient Runes class, he noted that Daphne had taken the spot beside him—the only other Slytherin who had chosen the subject.
The rest of the class was composed mainly of Ravenclaws, with two Hufflepuffs and two Gryffindors, both of whom he knew all too well.
Ivy and Hermione sat further to his left, separated from the Slytherins by a pair of Ravenclaws.
Before class began, Jakob had pulled Hermione aside, casually requesting that she look into Lord Black and his family. She had frowned at the suggestion but agreed, nonetheless. A promise made in their first year was still a promise, and she wasn't one to break it.
Ivy, however, had frequently shot him quick, subtle glances his way as if testing whether he would acknowledge her. He noticed every single one but pointedly refused to react.
Professor Babbling entered the room, and the students' excited murmurs hushed down as she took her place in front of the classroom.
"Welcome to the study of Ancient Runes, everyone. My name is Bethesda Babbling, and you may call me Professor Babbling. Now, what can you learn here?" she questioned the class.
Several Ravenclaws raised their hands immediately, as did Hermione.
Professor Babbling pointed to one of the Ravenclaws. "Yes, Miss Chang?"
"Ancient Runes are the foundation of magical scripts," Cho answered promptly. "They allow us to understand historical enchantments, craft protective wards, and even enhance spellwork."
The professor nodded approvingly. "Very good. And why is rune work still relevant in modern magic?"
Hermione's hand shot up higher than the others. Babbling acknowledged her with a small smile.
"Because many ancient spells and wards are still active today," Hermione explained. "Understanding runes allows us to decipher them, modify enchantments, and even create new ones. Some of the most powerful magical artifacts, like Goblin-forged blades, carry rune inscriptions that make them nearly indestructible."
Jakob leaned back slightly as Hermione spoke, unsurprised by her thorough answer. She would undoubtedly excel in this class.
"Very good, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor," Professor Babbling said approvingly. "Now, everyone, take out your books and turn to page six. We will begin with the runes commonly used in modern magical applications. Next year, we will move on to Norse runes, which will be more challenging, and for those continuing into the sixth and seventh years, we will explore the oldest known runes and symbols."
Jakob flipped open his book, turning the pages with an almost childlike eagerness. He was genuinely excited about this class.
Beside him, Daphne caught the look on his face and allowed a small smile to form. It was rare to see Jakob this openly enthusiastic about something, and for a brief moment, he looked… almost innocent.
She failed to notice the sharp glare aimed her way from a certain redhead across the room.
As the lesson progressed, they reviewed the different runes and their meanings. Jakob diligently scribbled down notes, ensuring he captured every detail of their properties as Professor Babbling explained them.
Throughout the class, Jakob's hand shot up more times than all the other students combined, his questions growing more advanced with each passing minute. While most students struggled to grasp the basics, he seemed intent on pushing the discussion into deeper, more intricate applications of runes.
"Professor, you mentioned that modern runic inscriptions are used in protective charms," Jakob began. "But what about layered rune warding? Say, stacking Isa for stability, combined with Algiz to enhance the defensive field, would the runes complement each other, or would the differing intents cause magical interference?"
The room went silent. A few students blinked in confusion. Hermione, who had been jotting down notes, not even understanding what she was writing down, had instead begun to subtly flip through her book, scanning the pages in search of any mention of the technique Jakob was referring to.
Professor Babbling's expression remained composed, but they had an unmistakable glint as she regarded the young Slytherin. "That is an excellent question, Heir Quade," she said slowly, folding her hands in front of her. "In theory, stacking runes in that manner would create an overlapping barrier, but the risk comes from the rune activation order. If Algiz is carved before Isa fully settles, the protective energies could disrupt one another, causing a collapse rather than reinforcement."
Jakob nodded thoughtfully before continuing. "So, it would require precise timing and rune spacing to prevent that kind of instability."
"Indeed," Babbling said in a tone that carried the faintest trace of intrigue. "Though such applications are generally beyond the scope of third-year studies."
Across the room, Ivy openly stared, her quill hovering forgotten above her parchment. Even Daphne, who had known Jakob for years, now regarded him with a newfound curiosity.
Jakob, however, wasn't done. "Would adding Raido at the outermost point of a defensive ward enhance directional protection, or would it interfere with the anchor stability?"
Now clearly frustrated that she couldn't follow the discussion, Hermione aggressively turned another page, scanning the textbook as if trying to catch up.
Babbling's lips pressed together, and something unreadable flickered across her face for a fleeting second, something close to realisation. That question was only asked when someone had attempted a room protection ward. "That would depend," she finally answered, leaning forward as if assessing him in a new light. "If the ward is meant to be stationary, Raido might introduce movement instability. However, if you were constructing a ward around something that needed flexibility, say, a moving object or a living being, Raido could be beneficial, though it would require extensive calibration to avoid the ward breaking under stress."
Jakob hummed in understanding and mentally filed away the information.
Meanwhile, the rest of the students had mostly stopped trying to keep up. Some exchanged confused glances, while others simply stared, trying to comprehend what exactly was happening.
Even Hermione, who prided herself on being ahead of the curriculum, had fallen silent, her gaze flicking between Jakob and Professor Babbling as she continued to subtly skim the book.
Professor Babbling took a measured breath, then gave him a careful smile. "You have quite the mind for runic application, Mr. Quade. I daresay you seem to grasp certain complexities well beyond what is typically expected at your level."
Her tone was casual, but Jakob didn't miss the underlying note of interest, almost as if she were silently gauging just how much he already knew.
Jakob only smiled in response. "I just find the subject fascinating, Professor."
Babbling studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "That much is clear," she said, then turned to address the rest of the class. "Now, let's return to the basics before we lose any more students in theoretical discussions, shall we?"
A quiet chuckle rippled through the room, though most students still looked thoroughly lost.
The lesson carried on, but as with all enjoyable things, time passed too quickly, and soon, the class was drawing to a close.
Professor Babbling clapped her hands once, drawing the students' attention. "That will be all for today," she announced.
"For your assignment, I want you to pair up and write an essay on a simple ward using the runes we've discussed. Now, I will tell you in advance—you will not succeed in crafting a functional ward just yet. However, the mistakes you make will serve as the foundation for next class's discussion." Her gaze swept across the room before continuing. "I understand that most of you would prefer to choose your own partners. However, mastery in runes often requires adapting to different minds and approaches. In the real world, you will not always get to pick who you work with, so consider this an early lesson."
With a flick of her wand, a bowl appeared on her desk, filled with folded slips of parchment.
Jakob's eyes scanned the room, assessing his potential partners. Some options were tolerable, others… less so. As he absently surveyed the class, his gaze locked onto a blonde Hufflepuff girl. She offered him a flirtatious smile, clearly hoping to be paired with him. Jakob merely raised an eyebrow before shifting his attention away.
From beside him, Daphne caught the exchange with a neutral expression, but her gaze lingered on Jakob for a fraction longer before she turned her attention back to the professor.
"Miss Granger, you may begin," Professor Babbling instructed, motioning for Hermione to step forward.
The Gryffindor stood, walking over to the bowl. She reached down, plucked a folded slip of parchment from within, and carefully unfolded it.
"It says… Hannah Abbott," she read aloud.
The blonde Hufflepuff, who had previously flirted with Jakob, looked almost crestfallen when she heard her name.
"Miss Granger, Miss Abbott," Professor Babbling continued. "You may leave the classroom and discuss when you will complete your assignment on the way to lunch."
Jakob paid little attention as Hermione gathered her things, Hannah following with an annoyed sigh. The door clicked shut behind them, and Babbling moved on.
"Miss Potter," the professor called next.
Ivy stood and walked over to the front, watching the bowl with a focused gaze as if willing to hear her unspoken wish. She stopped in front of it, staring at it for just a moment too long.
Babbling gave her a puzzled look. "Miss Potter, you do need to select a name."
Ivy nodded once and almost forcefully reached inside. When she withdrew a slip of parchment, her fingers tightened around the edges as she slowly, almost hesitantly opened it.
Then, for the briefest moment, her eyes widened before she quickly schooled her expression. Clearing her throat, she announced in a carefully measured tone, "Jakob Quade."
A quiet hush fell over the room.
Jakob froze, the name echoing in his ears like shattering glass. He thought he might have misheard for a brief moment, but as his gaze snapped to Ivy, she was staring right back at him, confirming that he had heard right.
Around them, reactions rippled across the class. A few students exchanged glances, some girls whispering behind their hands. Others were visibly displeased, either because they had lost their chance to be paired with Jakob or for far more personal reasons.
Sensing the rising tension in the classroom, Professor Babbling cleared her throat and quickly stepped in. "Mr. Quade, Miss Potter," she said in a firm tone. "You may leave now and coordinate your work accordingly."
The urgency in her voice wasn't lost on Jakob. It was a clear attempt to remove them from the situation before anything else happened.
Sighing, Jakob offered an apologetic smile to Daphne before grabbing his bag and heading for the door. He didn't wait for Ivy; by the time she reached for her things, he was already gone.
"Hey, wait! Why the hell are you walking so fast?" Ivy's frustrated voice rang out from behind him as they entered the corridor.
He didn't slow his stride or acknowledge her in the slightest. If he didn't put an end to this now, she would be unbearable to work with.
Jakob passed the entrance to the staircase and rounded the corner where he had spoken with Sirius not too long ago. It was as good a place as any. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms, waiting for her to catch up. The sound of hurried footsteps approached, growing louder by the second.
Then, as soon as Ivy stepped into view, nearly passing him, Jakob acted. He grabbed her by the wrist and spun her, pushing her back against the cold stone wall. His glare bore into her as he began the little speech he had prepared.
"I will not study with you, and—"
His words were abruptly cut off.
Ivy's hand shot up, her fingers curling around the collar of his robe before she yanked him toward her. Jakob barely had time to register what was happening before her lips crashed against his.
For a fleeting second, just one, his mind blanked, and he found himself kissing her back.
The familiar taste of strawberries melted together with her scent, and he would never admit it, but the Slytherin boy liked it.
Then reality slammed back into him.
Jakob jerked away, his expression caught between shock and frustration. His gaze darted over her face, searching for some kind of explanation.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded in a low accusing voice, rougher than before. "What made you even think of doing that?"
Ivy blinked, clearly caught off guard.
"Why would you be so secretive and push me up against the wall if you didn't want to kiss me?" she questioned in a mixed tone of curiosity and accusation.
Jakob remained silent, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.
"I wanted to speak with you! You—" He cut himself off as he heard the door to the Ancient Runes classroom creak open in the distance. Instinct took over, and he swiftly drew his wand, casting a silencing charm around them. A deep breath later, he schooled his expression back into its usual mask of control.
Ivy's eyebrow arched as she noticed the charm, her lips curving upward in amusement as she took a step closer.
"Really, Quade? If you wanted privacy, all you had to do was ask," she teased.
Jakob, already irritated, pointed his wand at her in warning. "No. We are going to talk. And if you try that again, I will curse you."
Her smirk didn't falter. If anything, she looked even more entertained. "Oh really?" her expression seemed to say, but she wisely kept her mouth shut when he shot her a sharper look.
With an exasperated sigh, Jakob continued. "I will do my end of the work, and you will do yours. We'll meet before the next Ancient Runes class to review. That's it. Understood?"
Ivy's expression dropped as she lowered her head, feigning disappointment. Jakob relaxed, internally thanking whatever force had spared him from yet another one of her Gryffindor acts.
Then she lifted her head, and he knew instantly she had been faking.
"I have a better idea," she murmured, a slow smirk forming on her lips.
Jakob's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I doubt that."
"You'll be studying with me on Thursday evening," Ivy continued, stepping forward in that confident, flirtatious way of hers that made him almost, almost take a step back. "We'll meet in your classroom."
The intensity in her gaze was unnerving, and Jakob's focus slipped for a fraction of a second. His eyes flickered down towards her lips before he could stop himself, hoping that she wouldn't notice it.
Too late.
Ivy caught it immediately.
Her smirk widened as she leaned in, her voice dropping into a whisper. "You always find yourself enjoying my kisses," she said with clear amusement in her tone. "And I enjoy yours. So why fight it?"
Her arms looped around his neck as she pushed herself up on her toes to be millimetres away from his lips, waiting for him to react.
Jakob took a breath, needing oxygen, as his mind battled between reason and impulse.
Then impulse won.
Ivy moved first, jumping up and locking her legs around his waist. His hands shot out instinctively, catching her as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him into a kiss that was neither hesitant nor shy.
It was heated, reckless, everything he shouldn't have let happen.
Jakob's grip tightened. One hand supported her weight while the other pressed against the small of her back, drawing her closer. Ivy's body moulded to his as she deepened the kiss, tilting her head to grant herself more access, and for a brief, dangerous moment, he let himself give in.
Then, the two teens heard footsteps, and they froze.
Jakob's mind snapped back into place as he listened. The sound of retreating steps disappeared down the staircase. Slowly, his hands loosened. Ivy slid back to the floor, though she didn't step away.
She was still smirking.
Jakob took a deep breath, centring himself, before narrowing his eyes at her. "Can't you get it through your thick skull that I don't like you?"
Ivy let out a soft laugh. "Oh, Jakob," she purred, tilting her head. "Keep telling yourself that."
Jakob shot her a sharp look as if she had completely lost her mind.
"I'll meet you on Thursday," he said flatly, "if you just leave me alone."
Ivy gave a satisfied nod. "If you like, you can kiss me goodbye."
"This was the last time, Potter. Leave me alone." He said in a final, clipped tone. Without another word, he turned and walked away toward the staircase.
He hated her.
He hated that she was so persistent. Hated that smug, infuriating smirk of hers. Hated that she was the sister of the boy who lived. And most of all, he hated that she was right.
Every time he tasted her, every time he felt her against him, he lost a little more of the control he so carefully held onto. If this continued, there would come a time when he wouldn't be able to stop.
And that was what he hated the most.
Behind him, Ivy watched him go, her confident smirk faltering as she pushed down the sting of rejection.
That night in the woods, at the concert—she had felt it. The passion, the undeniable pull between them. She had spent the entire summer thinking about him, waiting for a letter that never came. And now, for just a brief moment, she had seen that part of him again.
It was addicting.
But the rejection that always followed?
That was what she really hated.
Still, she wasn't about to give up. She was a Potter. Her father had fought for her mother for six years, and she could do the same.
With a quiet, resolute nod, she set her decision in stone. The determination returned to her face, her smile creeping back as she wiped away a tear she hadn't even realised had fallen.
Unaware of Ivy's newfound determination, Jakob made his way down to the Great Hall. Spotting Daphne as the only one from their year seated at the Slytherin table, he slipped into the seat beside her without a word.
"You seem a bit annoyed," Daphne noted, eyeing him with amusement as she took a sip from her goblet.
Jakob, shoving food onto his plate with more force than necessary, merely snorted in response before stabbing at his meal with a fork.
"You would have been to if you were paired with a Gryffindor. And worse than that, a Potter." Jakob grumbled as he took a bite of his food. "Who did you get paired with?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow but let the topic of Ivy drop, shifting her attention back to Jakob's question instead. "Some Ravenclaw named Terry Boot. He…" She trailed off, her expression shifting slightly as her brows furrowed.
Jakob, catching the change, glanced up. "He what?"
"Nothing," she said, though her fingers idly toyed with the edge of her sleeve. "He just kept looking at me strangely. Couldn't seem to get a full sentence out while we were deciding when to meet."
Jakob barely reacted, giving a careless shrug. "Maybe he fancies you."
Daphne turned to him sharply, her glare filled with clear offence as if he had just suggested something utterly absurd. Jakob, who did not get the signal, continued eating without giving it a second thought.
Without another word, she pushed back from the table and stood.
Jakob blinked, momentarily caught off guard as she abruptly turned on her heel and walked away.
"Daphne?" he called, but she didn't pause, nor did she look back.
He frowned, watching as she strode out of the Great Hall, unable to decipher whatever had just happened.
After finishing his meal, Jakob pushed his plate aside and rose from the table, intending to leave. He had barely taken a step toward the entrance when he caught sight of his friends making their way inside. They looked tired, worn in a way that immediately put him on edge.
But it was Pansy who made him stop in his tracks.
She looked shaken.
Jakob's frown deepened as he approached.
"What happened to you?" he asked, noting how she looked slightly unsettled.
Pansy hesitated, glancing at Draco, who snorted before answering for her. "We were supposed to read tea leaves in Divination. I paired up with Pansy, and when that crazy old bat came over to check ours, she looked at her leaves and told her that someone she loves would suffer. That they'd be relieved but still suffer." He rolled his eyes. "Then she looked at mine and—bam!—class was dismissed."
Jakob shifted his gaze to Pansy, whose usual sharpness was absent and then, back to Draco.
"Wow," he deadpanned. "That must have been horrible for you, Draco. If you ever need someone to talk to, please, don't bother me, alright?"
Draco gave him a hard shove to the shoulder. "Yeah, you prick, same to you."
Jakob chuckled, shaking his head, but Pansy remained silent. His amusement faded slightly as he observed her. She was still mulling over whatever that fraud of a professor had told her.
"See you at DADA, alright?" he asked, making an effort to sound reassuring.
"Yeah… sure," Pansy answered, though her voice lacked its usual confidence.
As he moved past his friends, his thoughts drifted to Defense Against the Dark Arts and how this year's class would unfold under the new professor. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar pair heading in his direction.
Black and Tonks.
Without missing a beat, Jakob passed the two aurors, offering Tonks a chipper, "Hello, seventh floor."
Sirius furrowed his brows in confusion, glancing between them. Tonks, on the other hand, stiffened immediately, her hair changing through different colours as she whirled around to glare at him.
"That little shit. Why in bloody hell does Dumbledore wants us to protect that insufferable prick?" Tonks hissed.
Sirius shot her a warning look. "Not in here," he muttered, keeping his tone casual despite the glance he threw around the room. Then, with a smirk, he added, "And he's not so bad. Reminds me of me at that age, except, of course, I was much more handsome."
Tonks didn't share his amusement. Her glare remained fixed on the boy in question as he casually turned the corner with his hands in his pockets, whistling a tune as if he hadn't just royally pissed her off.
Merlin She hated him.
Having a moment to himself, Jakob made his way down to the Slytherin common room and into his dorm. With Saliza draped over his shoulders, he lay down with a satisfied sigh, letting the familiar weight of his serpent comfort him.
"Saliza," he murmured, dragging his fingers gently along her smooth scales. "I've decided to introduce you to my family this winter break. I think it's time."
The serpent's tongue flicked out, tasting the air as she coiled slightly tighter. "It pleases me, my little youngling," she hissed in return. "I look forward to it."
Jakob smirked at her response before his expression turned contemplative. "So, you want to tell me what you gained when devouring the basilisk?" He asked as he let his fingers trailed down her spine with a casual yet probing touch.
Saliza lifted her head slightly, her red eyes gleaming with something hidden. "I never tell," she hissed with what Jakob took as an amused tone. "You will see when the time comes."
Jakob frowned but didn't press the matter further.
They simply lay there for a while, the silence stretching comfortably between them until Saliza shifted. "Where's Amy? I haven't seen her in a while."
Jakob sighed, tilting his head back against the pillow. "Yeah... she's busy... I think. I can ask her to open a window for you if you want."
"Yes," Saliza agreed, her tongue flicking again. "I would like that."
Jakob hesitated before adding, "Do me a favor while you're there. See if she's up to something. I have a feeling she's avoiding me for some reason."
"I will, my youngling."
He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the peaceful moment with his snake and the quiet of the room. The weight of everything, the expectations, the conflicts, the mind games, all faded into the background for just a little while.
Then, when he opened his eyes again, he noticed something was off.
Saliza was gone.
And the light filtering through the window had dimmed far more than it should have.
Frowning, he reached for his wand and flicked it. "Tempus."
A glowing set of numbers appeared in the air.
His stomach dropped.
"Shit!"
Defence Against the Dark Arts would start in five minutes; he had overslept.
Without wasting another second, he grabbed his bag and bolted, rushing up the stairs at a near run, ignoring the curious stares from passing students and the disapproving glances of the castle's portraits.
When he reached the third corridor, he saw the Defense Against the Dark Arts door closing. Jakob quickened his pace, stopping just outside. He took a calming breath, straightened his robes, and opened the door.
Every head turned toward him.
The room was silent, save for the soft scrape of the door clicking shut behind him. Unfazed by the attention, Jakob gave a short bow, preparing to offer an excuse, only for Professor Webb to speak first.
"Ah, Mr. Quade," she said, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Do you believe you deserve more attention than the rest of the class? That the rules don't apply to you?"
Jakob straightened, then gave another small bow. "No, Professor. My apologies."
Her eyebrow arched. "Then why were you late?"
He caught movement from the corner of his eye, several Gryffindors smirking. Weasley and Potter, in particular, looked seconds away from bursting into laughter, watching him like he was part of some grand comedy performance.
Jakob considered lying—just for a moment. It would be simple enough, a carefully worded excuse, a slight change in tone to sell it. But something about the way Professor Webb was watching him made him hesitate.
She wasn't just waiting for an answer—she was analysing him.
As if she would know the second he lied.
With a quiet sigh, Jakob reconsidered his approach.
"I was-"
"Sit down," she instructed, cutting him off mid-sentence.
A quiet flare of irritation sparked inside him. Three seconds. He had been late by barely three seconds. Even McGonagall wouldn't have cared.
Suppressing the irritation, Jakob stiffly nodded and walked to the back of the room. He dropped his bag to the floor and fixed the Gryffindor boy beside him with an unblinking, pointed stare.
Dean Thomas swallowed hard and, without a word, discreetly shifted to another seat.
As Professor Webb turned to the board and began writing her name, Jakob dropped into his seat without bothering to read it. His attention shifted elsewhere, his gaze drifting toward the window instead.
"Hello, class," the professor began in a crisp and authoritative tone. "My name is Ms. Leah Webb, and you may call me Professor Webb. This year, we will cover various dark creatures and the strategies required to defend ourselves against them."
Harry raised his hand, but before he could speak, Professor Webb gave a small flick of her wand. His hand dropped back to the desk as if an invisible force had gently pushed it down. A quiet murmur rippled through the class as Ron and Harry exchanged bewildered looks, but neither dared to protest.
"I will need to test you all," she continued, completely unfazed by the reaction. "To ensure you are up to date with the material I have prepared. I will be very disappointed if you fail to meet my expectations."
Her sharp gaze swept over the room before settling on Jakob. The moment she noticed his lack of attention, the corner of her lips curled, and that smirk returned.
"Mr. Quade," Professor Webb called, almost amused. "Would you be so kind as to come over here and hand out the papers to your fellow students, or is whatever is outside the window truly that captivating?"
A brief silence followed.
Jakob blinked, then slowly turned his head toward her. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed, knowing that whatever response came to mind wouldn't be classroom-appropriate.
The tension was subtle but unmistakable. Even the other students sensed it, their gazes flickering between him and Professor Webb with growing curiosity. She wasn't just calling on him—she was singling him out.
Draco glared at the professor while Pansy's expression darkened, her fingers curling slightly into fists as she fought the urge to speak. But if their silent disapproval bothered Webb, she didn't show it. She remained entirely unfazed, waiting expectantly for his response.
Jakob slightly tilted his head before responding, "Of course, Professor."
"Five points from Slytherin for the blatant disrespect, Mr. Quade," Ms. Webb declared coolly.
Jakob, who had just taken a step forward, halted abruptly. His gaze snapped to hers, and his eyes narrowed.
"Excuse me?" He asked in a strained voice, trying to cover the venom in it.
Webb gestured toward the board where her name had been clearly written before turning back to him with an almost satisfied expression. "If you had been paying attention like a proper student instead of daydreaming like an idle child, you would have heard my instructions at the beginning of class," she said smoothly. "You. May. Call. Me. Professor Webb."
She was goading him, daring him to argue back. It was written all over her face; she wanted him to slip, to react, and to give her a reason to punish him further.
Jakob refused to give her that satisfaction.
Instead, he kept his expression neutral, walked forward without another word, and accepted the stack of papers. As he moved through the rows, handing them out, Jakob took silent note of the smirking Gryffindors. He would remember them.
By the time he returned to his seat with the last paper in his hand, he gave the quiz a brief glance before picking up his quill.
Defence Against the Dark Arts Third-Year Quiz:
What are the three main stages of a werewolf transformation?
How do you identify a Boggart before it reveals its true form?
What spell is most effective against Grindylows?
List three key differences between an Inferius and a living being.
The questions continued, but Jakob barely needed to think. His quill moved swiftly, each answer forming in his mind before the ink even dried on the parchment. He didn't pause, he didn't look to a friend for answers, and when twenty minutes had passed, he was done.
Standing, he collected his finished parchment and approached Professor Webb's desk.
Would she accuse him of cheating? Would she claim he had somehow gotten the answers beforehand? He almost scoffed at his own thoughts; they were ridiculous. And yet, something told him she wouldn't simply let this go.
Jakob reached her desk and held out his completed quiz.
She snatched the parchment from his hand with just enough force to make a point, her expression giving nothing away as she scanned his answers.
Jakob didn't move, watching as her eyes trailed down the page.
Her brow lifted slightly, nodding along—like the answers weren't complete trollshit.
"Well, well, Mr. Quade. Full marks." She said in a mock, surprised tone. "I suppose your arrogance has to be backed up by something."
Jakob remained utterly still. He didn't believe for a second that she was genuinely giving him credit. He waited, knowing there was more.
And then, with an exasperated sigh, she turned her gaze toward him with a mock-apologetic smile before tearing the parchment clean in half.
Gasps rippled through the class. Even the Gryffindors looked stunned, their earlier amusement gone.
Jakob flinched, not from shock, not from fear. It was rage. A slow, simmering heat unfurled in his chest, clawing at the edges of his control. He forced his hands behind his back, clenching them tightly as he controlled his breathing.
"Shame, really," Webb said lightly, tilting her head. The look in her eyes made it clear she was wondering if he truly thought she was an idiot.
"But I don't entertain the delusions of those who think they can outmanoeuvre me. Take your seat, Mr. Quade."
Jakob stared at her for a second, silently asking if she really wanted to start a war with him. The amused eyebrow she offered in return told him enough, and he inclined his head just once before turning sharply on his heel and walking back to his seat.
He didn't look at anyone, didn't acknowledge the murmurs around him. His control was hanging by a thread.
"Oh. And that will be a detention, Mr. Quade."
Jakob's steps faltered, only for a fraction of a second. He didn't turn his head. He couldn't afford to. Not when he was so close to simply walking out.
"Yes, professor Webb."
Across the room, Harry, who usually found amusement in Jakob's misfortune, was notably silent, his brows furrowed in something closer to unease than satisfaction. On the other hand, Ron looked downright pleased, leaning back with a lazy smirk as if this was the best show he'd seen all day.
Hermione, however, wasn't about to let it slide.
"Professor, with all due respect," she began in a steady, firm tone, "Mr. Quade is top of our year, and—"
Webb didn't even let her finish.
"It's commendable that you'd defend him, Miss Granger," she cut off smoothly with a condescending tone. "However, if you'd like to continue attending my class, I'd strongly suggest you learn the value of silence."
Jakob turned to Hermione, locking eyes with her for a single second and silently telling her to back off.
Hermione forced herself to stay silent, though the tension in her posture made it clear she was biting back the urge to argue further. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, and her glare remained fixed on Webb, who, to her growing frustration, didn't even acknowledge her anymore.
The class remained unnervingly quiet as Webb continued reading through the remaining quizzes. Every student sat stiffly, half-expecting their own parchment to be ripped apart like Jakob's.
But the professor didn't repeat her previous display.
Instead, once she finished, she sighed, placed the last parchment down, and let a small, almost pleasant smile form on her lips. "Well," she said, tapping her fingers against her desk. "It seems you have all met the bare minimum requirements. Which means we can move on."
The tension didn't ease, but there was a collective shift of shoulders as if a silent wave of relief passed through the class.
"Everyone, line up in the center of the room," Webb instructed, stepping around her desk.
Students exchanged glances before slowly rising from their seats. The moment they moved, Webb flicked her wand. With a sharp swoosh, the tables slid to the walls, clearing the middle of the classroom.
"Today," the professor continued, "I have a special guest for you, one I found lurking in the dark spaces beneath the Hogwarts kitchens."
With another wave of her wand, a large, iron-clad chest slid forward from beneath her desk, the metal latches clanking ominously against the floor.
"Today, I have a special little guest for you that I found lurking around in the dark spaces inside the Hogwarts kitchen." .
"Can anyone tell me what they believe lurks inside?" she asked as her gaze swept across the room.
A few hesitant hands lifted, and with a careless gesture, she pointed to Hermione.
"Is it a Boggart?"
Webb gave a sharp nod. "Very good, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor."
Hermione barely reacted to the praise, offering only a curt nod—just enough to acknowledge it without inviting trouble.
"Now, can anyone tell me what a Boggart actually looks like?" Webb continued, her eyes scanning the class again.
Silence.
No one dared to speak this time, either unwilling or unsure. Webb sighed and turned her gaze to Jakob.
"Mr. Quade," she said firmly. "If you weren't cheating, then surely you must know the answer."
A few students shifted uncomfortably at the jab, but Jakob remained unruffled. Standing in the centre of the line, he met her gaze and gave a slow nod.
"No one knows the true form of a Boggart," he answered evenly. "It takes the shape of whatever you fear most, using that fear to paralyse you before it moves in for the kill."
Webb held his gaze for a split second longer before inclining her head. No points. No punishment. Just a silent acknowledgement.
"There is, however, a very effective spell to deal with these creatures," she continued, returning her attention to the rest of the class. "Repeat after me. Riddikulus."
The students echoed her words, some with more confidence than others. Webb nodded.
"Good. Now, let's see if you can put it into practice," she continued, her gaze sweeping over the lined-up students. "A Boggart's greatest weapon is fear, so their natural enemy is laughter. When you cast the incantation, you must picture the Boggart as something humorous. That is the key to rendering it harmless."
She turned to the first student in line, her sharp eyes landing on Parvati Patil.
"Are you ready, Miss Patil?"
The Gryffindor girl nodded, though the nervous way she gripped her wand betrayed her unease.
With a lazy flick of her wand, Webb stepped back, and the chest unlocked with a heavy click. The lid creaked open, and a massive snake slithered out from within, coiling itself before rising, towering over the students.
A few gasps sounded from the back, but Webb remained unfazed.
"Say the spell, Miss Patil," she instructed evenly.
Parvati swallowed hard but lifted her wand as she said the incantation. "R-Riddikulus!"
Instantly, the towering serpent morphed and shrank, its body wrapping and twisting in on itself before pop, it transformed into a ridiculous jack-in-the-box clown, its oversized grin wobbling on a spring. Laughter rippled through the room.
Webb gave a curt nod. "Not bad. Next."
Neville Longbottom hesitated before stepping forward. He already looked terrified, gripping his wand as if it might disappear from his hands at any moment.
The Boggart shifted, its swirling form melting and reforming until it solidified into the looming figure of Professor Snape, his black robes billowing as he sneered down at Neville with his usual cold disdain.
A chorus of snickers and whispers erupted from the Slytherins.
Neville squeezed his eyes shut before forcing himself to act. He lifted his wand, his voice barely above a whisper. "Riddikulus!"
A ripple of magic pulsed through the air as Snape's robes morphed into a gaudy, frilly dress complete with bright floral patterns. A large, feathered hat appeared atop his head, and thick, smudged makeup covered his face.
This time, the Gryffindors roared with laughter while the Slytherins scowled.
Then, it was Malfoy's turn. The Boggart swirled, sensing him, its shapeless form twisting as it locked onto his fear.
Draco's grip tightened around his wand as the memory resurfaced, the cursed book.
Before he could steel himself, the Boggart twisted and shifted, solidifying into a form that sent ice-cold dread curling deep in his stomach. Standing before him was a villager, but not just any ordinary villager.
It was a walking corpse.
Its head twitched at an unnatural angle, the skin of its face ripped and torn as if something had savaged it beyond recognition. The milky, lifeless eyes locked onto Draco with an unrelenting stare, void of any emotion but filled with something far worse, something that made his pulse hammer in his ears. A guttural growl rasped from its ruined throat as it took a slow and jerky step forward like a puppet being controlled by invisible, unsteady hands.
A collective step back rippled through the class.
Draco's breath hitched. His mind flashed back to the village, to the horrors he had witnessed, to the moment he realised how utterly helpless he had been. His vision tunnelled, and the cold sensation of dread crept through his veins, freezing him in place.
He forced his shaking hand up. "R-Riddikulus!"
Nothing.
The corpse continued its slow, nightmarish advance.
Draco's eyes darted to Webb, who was already raising her wand, looking at the creature in alarm and preparing herself to step in.
He tried again, his voice rising, edged with panic. "Riddikulus!"
Still nothing.
The Boggart villager let out a sickening, choked sound. Then, to the horror of everyone watching, it bit off two of its own fingers, gnawing on them as it reached a bloodied hand toward Draco.
Then, in an instant, Draco felt a sharp tug on his robes. Someone yanked him backwards, pulling him stumbling out of harm's way.
Jakob stepped forward without hesitation and raised his wand as he glared at the undead creature.
"Riddikulus!"
The Boggart twisted violently in place, its grotesque form warping before abruptly shrinking.
The decayed corpse vanished, replaced by an ordinary villager, one who now wore an oversized top hat and carried a walking stick, tapping his feet against the ground in an absurd, exaggerated dance.
A few nervous chuckles broke the tense silence, but most of the students remained pale and stiff, still feeling slightly shaken from what they had just witnessed. Whatever that thing had been, it had scared them to their core.
Jakob turned back to Draco, giving him a short nod. The blond still looked rattled, frustration flickering behind his eyes, but he gave a stiff nod in thanks after a moment.
Jakob had just begun to step back into place when it happened.
A scream.
Not just any scream. It was raw, agonised, and bloodcurdling, tearing through the classroom with a force that sent a sharp jolt down his spine.
His body went rigid. His breath caught.
Slowly, he turned his head toward the Boggart.
It was thrashing violently in place, its form twisting and resisting as if something was forcing it to shift against its will. Then, with a brutal, sickening slam, it hit the floor.
Red, glowing lines snaked outward from where it landed, crackling like veins of molten lava. They pulsed beneath the writhing mass of shadow, the air around them thickening with heat, rolling off the sigil like the floor itself had been set ablaze.
Jakob took an instinctive step back. He knew. He didn't need to see the final shape of the symbol to understand.
His mouth opened to cast a spell, something, anything, but no words came.
The scream, the one that had lived in the back of his mind like a parasite, the one that had haunted his nights, was suddenly cut off.
The silence it left behind was worse.
The entire class had backed away, almost pressing themself against the wall. No one dared to move; no one dared to speak.
And yet, Jakob remained where he was. Standing alone.
The symbol on the floor seared into the wood, burning itself like a deep wound.
Then, it opened.
A wave of searing heat exploded from its depths, washing over the room like fire, tearing through dry parchment. It carried something with it, something far worse than the heat itself.
Screams.
Agonised, tormented, endless.
The screams, hundreds, no, thousands, filled the classroom. Layered upon each other, overlapping in a twisted, chaotic symphony of suffering.
Jakob couldn't count them, couldn't separate one from the next. They crashed over him like a tidal wave, drowning out every other sound, every other thought.
Then he saw them.
Claws.
Ten obsidian claws slowly rose from the depths of the sigil, dragging across the floor with a sickening scrape. The hands followed, blackened, scorched, gripping the wood like a creature clawing its way free from the abyss. Jakob's wand lowered, holding his breath as he watched, transfixed by a horror that felt both unreal and all too familiar.
Then came the horns. They were jagged and twisted, curling upward from a cracked, searing forehead.
And then he saw the eyes. Twin slits of molten orange, gleaming like embers in a dying fire.
They locked onto him. Jakob's blood turned to ice as he heard it speak.
The voice slithered into his mind like poison, a whisper woven with venom and malice. A voice he had heard before. A voice that had haunted him ever since that night in the chamber of secrets.
"You hoped she died… but she is here with me."
The thing's eyes narrowed as if it was grinning. "I have torn her apart and rebuilt her… just to tear her apart again."
A slow, mocking chuckle rumbled from the creature's chest.
"And it's all because of you."
Jakob shook his head as the images slammed into his mind, Ginny's screams, the sight of her small, trembling body being dragged to her death, her fingers clawing at the stone, reaching for a salvation that never came.
"No…" The word barely escaped his lips, lost beneath the growing weight of the presence before him.
The laughter coiled through his mind like thick oil. The searing orange eyes locked onto him, pinning him in place like an insect beneath the glass.
Around him, the classroom erupted into chaos. The students who weren't frozen in terror screamed, shoving and pulling at the door in a frantic attempt to escape.
But it wouldn't budge.
"Soon… they will all burn."
The voice deepened, reverberating through the very walls of the classroom, through his bones, through his mind.
"I will come for your world, and they will all suffer. And it's all thanks to you."
"Ridikkulus!"
Jakob barely had time to react before a spell shot from Professor Webb's wand aimed directly at the monstrosity.
The creature twisted violently, its molten gaze snapping toward her just as its form began to distort. A sharp, guttural sound tore from its throat, something between a growl and a scream, before its body collapsed with a sickening crack, crumpling in on itself until all that remained was a single, bouncing red rubber ball. It hit the floor with an unnatural lightness, rolling slightly before coming to a stop.
Webb sharply flicked her wand, sending it hurtling back into the chest. The lid slammed shut with a resounding thud, locking itself instantly.
Jakob let out a breath, but the moment of stillness didn't last.
Professor Webb turned to him with a look he had never seen before, and something in her eyes made his blood run cold.
"Jakob," she said in a steady but worried tone. "What have you done?"
Before he could respond, a loud bang snapped him back.
The classroom was in chaos.
Students shoved against the locked door, their panic fuelling one another. Ron shouted frantically as Harry threw his weight against the wood, leading the charge to break it open. The impact rattled the hinges, but the door held firm.
Others had pressed against the walls, some curled into themselves, gripping their wands but making no move to use them. A few had their eyes locked in terror onto the chest as if expecting it to burst open again at any second.
Jakob barely noticed when Professor Webb stepped closer or when her arm settled firmly and protectively around his shoulders.
A shimmering shield flickered into existence the next second, enclosing just the two of them.
Jakob barely noticed as she moved her wand in a slow, deliberate arc.
A thick green smoke seeped through the air like a living thing, curling its way toward the panicked students. It spread fast, too fast and within seconds, the shouting turned to coughing, then to silence, as one by one, they collapsed to the floor.
With another casual flick, Webb cleared the smoke in an instant.
Jakob's gaze darted between the unconscious students and the professor standing before him.
"You…" He finally managed in a low, strained voice. "What did you do to them?"
Webb didn't answer immediately. Instead, she turned to him, scanning his face before she reached forward, cupping his cheeks in both hands.
"They're sleeping," she murmured reassuringly. "They won't remember what they saw when they wake up."
Then her lips curled ever so slightly.
"I answered one of your questions," she began smoothly, tilting her head. "Now you'll answer one of mine."
Jakob's eyes widened as he heard that specific sentence.
Webb leaned in, and her voice turned softer as she asked. "What have you done, my little lamb?"
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