Chapter 30: Slytherin Five, Tryouts, and Morgan le Fey.
"Amy Frome? You mean the prefect?" Pansy exclaimed, her voice rising in shock.
Jakob shifted slightly, clearly trying not to make a big deal out of it. "Yes, but it's—"
"The same Amy Frome who hexed you the first time you met? Bloody hell, Jakob, she's 17, and you're 14!"
"I know, Pansy, but—"
"Is she doing this without your consent? Because if she is, I swear I'll—"
Jakob quickly clamped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. "Pansy, stop," he said firmly, his tone brokering no argument. "She has my consent. And yes, she hexed me, but we're… into each other now. And lately, we've been kind of… intimate. It's complicated."
Pansy's eyebrows shot up at the word "intimate," but Jakob pressed on before she could interrupt.
"It's complicated," he repeated. "You can't tell anyone about this. If it got out, everything we've been working on could fall apart. Nod if you understand."
Reluctantly, Pansy nodded, and Jakob cautiously removed his hand, ready to clamp it back down the moment she started blabbering again.
"Umm," she began, her tone softer now, hesitant yet curious, "what do you mean by... intimate?"
Jakob's cheeks flushed slightly as he glanced away, clearing his throat. "Well… you know what I mean," he muttered, his voice barely above a mumble.
He tried to shift away, creating some space between them, but Pansy was quicker. She wrapped her arms and legs around him like a trap, locking him in place.
"Pansy, stop," Jakob groaned, his voice carrying an edge of embarrassment. "It's weird to have this conversation while we're literally in bed, and you're wrapped around me like some kind of clingy vine."
Pansy let out a laugh, her grip tightening as Jakob wriggled half-heartedly in her hold. For the first time since their earlier fight, she looked genuinely happy, and remembering the bruises he'd caused on her wrist, Jakob couldn't bring himself to push her away too firmly.
"Alright," he exhaled, giving in with a sigh of defeat. "I'll tell you."
He met her expectant gaze, his own expression caught somewhere between resignation and reluctant amusement. "Well, it all started last christmas when she kissed me."
Jakob recounted everything—Christmas, the summer, and the moments in between. With each word, Pansy's expression shifted, her shock growing more evident.
"Bloody hell jake! She shows you a bit of skin, and you fall like a stone," she giggled when Jakob reached the part about Amy visiting him over the summer.
Jakob smirked, shrugging lightly. "It's only natural. But it's strange… it's like I can't even control myself when she does certain things," he admitted, a hint of confusion slipping into his tone.
"Like what?" Pansy asked, tilting her head slightly as she studied him with an almost curious intensity.
Jakob hesitated for a moment, glancing away before answering. "Tonight for example," he began, his voice quieter, almost thoughtful, "when she straddled me and started moving her hips like that... it was like everything else disappeared. My mind couldn't focus on anything but her. I wanted more and more and—"
He stopped abruptly, his gaze snapping back to Pansy. The sudden realization of their current position—her arms and legs still wrapped around him—hit him like a wave, and he became acutely aware of the changes happening to his body.
Pansy frowned, her confusion evident as she noticed the shift in his expression. "Jakob, what is it? Why do you look worried?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to read his face.
"Um, Pansy," Jakob began, his voice carrying a hint of rising panic, "I think it would be best if you released me now."
Pansy frowned at him briefly, then smirked, clearly deciding he was joking. "Is little Jakob feeling shy about sharing his feelings with his roommate?" She teased, her tone light and playful. Leaning in closer, she added with a slight whine, "Come on, I want to hear the rest!"
"Pansy sto-" he began, the worry on his face deepening.
"Come ooon," she repeated, dragging out the word, her body giving a small, insistent tug against his as though it might wear him down. Her grip tightened, almost childlike in its stubbornness, refusing to let go.
Jakob's expression tightened, his voice more urgent. "Pansy, I'm not joking. You need to get—"
She started to protest, but her words faltered. Her movements stilled for a moment, confusion flickering across her face.
"Hey, Jakob, what's in your…" she began, her voice trailing off as she shifted her hips slightly. Her movements were slow and uncertain initially, but as she adjusted herself again, the unfamiliar pressure against her most private area became impossible to ignore.
It took a moment—too long, really—before she noticed the way Jakob's body had tensed. When her gaze flicked up to his face, she found his eyes tightly shut, his jaw clenched.
His expression wasn't just one of embarrassment and defeat but something else—something that sent heat rushing to her cheeks as the realization began to dawn on her.
She froze mid-movement, her wide eyes darting down to where her skirt rested, and her legs were wrapped around him. The realization hit her like a tidal wave, and after a fleeting second of stunned stillness, she scrambled back, practically leaping to the opposite side of the bed.
With her back now turned to him, she buried her face in her hands, struggling to process what she had just done.
Jakob sighed heavily, pressing his fingers to his temples. "I told you," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration, "that my body and mind are acting weird."
"Ahu, I get it," Pansy said quickly, her voice higher than usual. She kept her face hidden, but if Jakob could see, he'd notice her cheeks flushed deep red and her hand covering her mouth.
Jakob cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um, so… we might want to sleep on separate sides tonight," he suggested hesitantly.
"Yeah," Pansy replied immediately in a clipped tone.
"Goodnight?" he half-said, half-asked.
"Ahu, yeah, goodnight."
A brief pause hung between them before Jakob added, "Pansy?"
"Yeh?"
Jakob let out another sigh. "We still need to change. We're still in our school robes."
As Jakob awoke the next morning, he realized Pansy was nestled in his arms, sleeping peacefully as if last night's awkwardness had never occurred. Despite their agreement to sleep on separate sides of the bed, it seemed her subconscious had other ideas.
He shifted carefully, trying not to wake her, but the slight movement was enough. Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at him groggily.
"What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes. Then, as if the events of last night replayed in her mind, she froze. A deep blush crept across her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she muttered quickly, fumbling to move away from him. Her movements were clumsy, still heavy with sleep.
Jakob reached out, catching hold of the fabric of her pyjamas before she could pull too far away. "Pansy, it's fine," he said softly, his grip gentle but firm. "Can we talk about this before we start the day?"
She paused, hesitating, before sitting back down beside him. "Um, yeah. Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
Jakob let out a small sigh, gathering his thoughts. "My body's acting weird, and so is my temper. I don't know what's going on, but I'll figure it out. Until then… do you want to move the beds apart, or can you manage?"
Pansy's expression softened, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "It's not that," she said quietly. "It's just… my body's acting weird too. Not exactly the same, but it's happening. I was hoping we could take things one at a time, wait until I was better. I don't want to sleep separately, though. I feel like… maybe it's better if we go through this together?"
Jakob's first instinct was to say no—this sounded like an idea destined to go wrong. But as the thought settled, he began to see its value. Maybe they could help each other, notice when things were spiralling, and pull the other back before it went too far.
"Yeah," he said, at last, drawing her into a reassuring hug. "I think you're onto something."
"So… we're good? Nothing's changed?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.
"Nothing's changed," Jakob assured her with a firm nod.
Pansy smiled faintly as she pulled away from the hug. "I'm heading out with Tracey," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "So, I won't be waiting for you at breakfast."
Jakob nodded, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. "Alright, see you later then."
He watched as Pansy slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom door. A short while later, she returned, moving briskly as she gave him a quick wave—something uncharacteristic of her. Jakob blinked, momentarily taken aback, before offering a slightly awkward wave in return. She gave him a faint smile before stepping out of the dorm, closing the door softly behind her.
He leaned back against his pillow, running a hand through his hair with a deep exhale. "This isn't weird at all," he muttered sarcastically. Shaking his head, he pushed himself upright and made his way to the bathroom, preparing himself for another day at Hogwarts.
Jakob finished getting ready and headed into the common room, where Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Daphne were waiting, clustered near the fireplace. The warm glow of the flames danced across their faces as they chatted lazily. When Jakob entered, Draco immediately pushed off the arm of the chair he'd been leaning against, smirking faintly.
"jake, what's up with Pansy? She was acting... off this morning."
"Not a clue," Jakob replied with a casual shrug, masking any hint of what he knew.
Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced. "Sure you don't," he said with a sceptical tone. He held Jakob's gaze for a moment before rolling his eyes and letting it go.
"Fine, its too early for interrogations anyway," he muttered, turning back toward the others.
Daphne stepped in smoothly, slipping her arm through Jakob's and leaning in slightly. "Don't mind him," she said, casting Draco a pointed look.
Draco rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that went ignored.
"Some people just need a lesson in manners before breakfast," Daphne added, her tone lightening as she turned her full attention to Jakob, offering him a smile she reserved only for him. "Shall we?"
Jakob nodded, a faint smirk playing on his lips. With Daphne at his side and the rest of the group following, they made their way toward the Great Hall, the low hum of morning conversations drifting ahead of them.
As they entered, it was obvious something had shifted. Whispers filled the space, students huddled together in tight clusters, murmuring about the rumours circulating through the castle—the death in the Forbidden Forest and the two boys who had been taken.
At the front of the teacher's table, Dumbledore stood with his hands clasped loosely before him. His gaze moved steadily across the room, observing the students as they filed in. Though his expression remained calm, there was a subtle weight in his posture, as if he were silently measuring the unease that lingered among them.
""Good morning, everyone," Dumbledore's calm, measured voice carried over the quiet hum of the Great Hall as he moved to the podium. His tone was as soothing as ever, yet it carried an edge of seriousness that settled over the students. Jakob tore off a piece of toast, chewing slowly, his gaze idly scanning the room as he half-listened.
"Yesterday was a tragic day indeed," Dumbledore continued, his voice dipping slightly. Jakob's lips twitched into a faint smirk, quickly masked as he reached for his goblet. Not for me. Yesterday was a victory.
"One of our students, Mr. Crow, who was well-liked by many, passed away due to what some might call a prank." Dumbledore paused, his gaze sweeping across the tables, seemingly searching for someone—or something—in their reactions. "But we must understand that things like this are never as simple as they appear."
Jakob fought the urge to scoff, taking another bite of his toast. Simple? Crow was simple, alright. A fool who played games he couldn't win.
"Three students entered the Forbidden Forest, and one was struck by a stunning spell." Dumbledore's words drew a ripple of murmurs through the hall.
His gaze lingered momentarily on the Gryffindor table. "This is why we stress that no student should enter the forest without a teacher's supervision. Tragedy often strikes where rules are ignored."
Jakob's attention shifted briefly to the Gryffindors, noting that two identical twins looked mock affronted by the pointed look their headmaster had just given them.
"We will be holding a memorial service after dinner tonight," Dumbledore concluded, his voice softer but still commanding attention. "For anyone who wishes to pay their respects."
Jakob successfully resisted rolling his eyes outright, instead lifting his goblet to hide the faint smirk threatening to surface. Yeah, no thanks. Crow was a nuisance. This "tragedy" was just the end of his stupidity.
Dumbledore stepped back from the podium and resumed his seat. The hall was quiet momentarily before the morning's usual flurry resumed.
Owls swooped through the hall, delivering letters and packages. A black-feathered owl Jakob recognized as Blaise's landed beside his friend, dropping a rolled copy of the Daily Prophet. Blaise unrolled it, his expression tightening as his eyes skimmed the front page.
Jakob leaned in slightly, catching sight of the headline:
Hogwarts Students Berrow and Finnius Sentenced to 15 Years in Azkaban for Manslaughter
Jakob's gaze flickered to the smaller print. The article detailed the swift trial, where the two purebloods admitted guilt, with evidence stacked firmly against them. The Minister's statement was printed in bold at the bottom: This is what awaits those who think it's acceptable to play with others' lives.
Jakob's lips curled into a faint, humourless smile as he leaned back. Poetic justice, he thought, though the satisfaction he expected didn't come. Instead, there was a hollow sense of inevitability. The pieces had fallen exactly where he placed them, but nothing about it felt triumphant.
"Anything interesting?" Jakob asked casually, nodding toward the paper. Blaise gave a shrug, folding it back up without comment.
Jakob returned his focus to his empty plate. It had to be done, he reminded himself.
He pushed himself away from the table, preparing to leave.
Draco glanced at him, noticing the complete lack of emotion on his best mate's face. "You're not going to come for the memorial, are you?"
Jakob stood, brushing crumbs off his robes. "Not really my thing," he replied with a shrug, ignoring the curious stares from the Slytherins around him. "But you go ahead."
Draco didn't press further, offering a short nod as Jakob turned and headed for the door.
As Jakob rounded the corner on his way to Herbology, he spotted Amy sitting alone on a stone bench in the courtyard, a book in her lap. The early morning light filtered through the arches, casting dappled patterns on the gravel path. The crunch of his footsteps broke the stillness as he approached her.
"Miss Frome, what are you doing out here on a morning like this?" he asked, his casual tone tinged with curiosity.
Amy didn't look up. Her response was curt, though layered with an edge he couldn't quite place. "Mind your own business, Quade, or perhaps you'd prefer to spend your morning in detention?"
Jakob raised an eyebrow but didn't push. Instead, he gave a slight bow, feigning deference. "As you wish."
He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him. "By the way, Quade," she said, snapping her book shut and setting it beside her. Her tone had shifted, now formal and deliberate. "You're summoned to a meeting this afternoon. Anything else you had planned is excused."
Jakob turned back toward her, the change in her demeanour piquing his interest. "If that's what you wish, I will be there, Miss Frome," he replied smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Amy nodded once before rising gracefully from the bench and walking away, her robes billowing slightly in the breeze. Jakob's eyes followed her retreating figure until she rounded a corner, disappearing from sight.
Just as he was about to continue on his way, something caught his eye—the book she'd left behind.
Resting on the bench, its dark cover seemed to hum faintly with energy, the symbols etched into it shifting ever so slightly. Jakob hesitated, glancing around the courtyard. Amy was gone, and the space was silent, save for the faint rustle of leaves.
Lowering himself onto the bench, he reached out, his fingers brushing the book's surface. The symbols seemed alive, vibrating beneath his touch. He frowned, the pull in his chest growing stronger as he stared at the shifting patterns. They began to rearrange themselves before his eyes, morphing into legible words.
Latent Darkness.
Jakob's breath hitched as he opened the book. The pages, once filled with incomprehensible symbols, began to shift and settle, the text coming into focus.
His heart pounded as he leaned in, his fingers tightening on the edges of the cover.
The Grimoire of Morgan le Fey
Darkness resides in all that lives. In the hearts of the magical and the non-magical alike. It exists in sentient beings, in the grass, the trees, the water, and the air. Only Fire is free from its touch. Yet light, in all its purity, can never contain the darkness.
Some turn from this darkness, seeking only the light. Others seek dominion over both. And there are those, like my bloodline, who seek to master the darkness itself and not fall prey to the madness that claims the weak.
Jakob's eyes widened in disbelief as he read. This book could explain everything.
He continued, his gaze locked on the page.
In my youth, I made a pact with a creature so dark and terrible that I could not bear to look upon its form. It granted me a companion, a friend, and a weapon of great power. With this gift, I would strike down Merlin and take the throne from my feeble, non-magical brother.
This gift was a spirit of darkness from beyond the veil. It lived within me, bound in symbiosis, growing stronger as I grew stronger. And when my son Yvane was born, it became clear he, too, was touched by the gift I had forged. The darkness, though latent at first, reveals itself when the wielder's power has grown enough to summon it.
This power—this darkness—can perform wonders, but it can also bring destruction. The easiest way to summon it is through powerful emotion or by a blood sacrifice. Emotion stirs it, blood forces it to show itself.
Suddenly, the rhythmic echo of approaching footsteps broke the stillness, reverberating through the stone corridor. Jakob's pulse quickened, panic flashing through him like a spark. He snapped the book shut, its shifting symbols flickering faintly, almost as if protesting his abrupt action.
With practised speed, he shoved the book into his robes, its weight pressing against his chest as he adjusted his posture. Jakob straightened, his face carefully blank. I need to get to the library, he thought, urgency propelling his steps forward.
Jakob arrived at the library moments later and approached Madam Pince, who was busy sorting through a pile of books behind her desk.
"Excuse me, Madam Pince, may I have a copybook?" he asked politely.
The older witch glanced up at him, her face set in a permanent frown. Without a word, she pulled a fresh copybook from under the desk.
"That will be 2 galleons."
Jakob handed over the coins with a polite nod before heading toward the quieter, less frequented section of the library. He reached a secluded round table nestled in a corner.
With a quick glance around to confirm he was alone, he carefully pulled the black book from his robes, placing it on the table beside the blank copybook.
"Effingo Illud," he muttered, his wand lightly tapping the black book. The enchantment shimmered faintly, and Jakob repeated the incantation, tapping the blank book next. The words glowed for a moment, rippling like water before the blank pages filled with an exact replica of the original.
Jakob allowed himself a small, satisfied smile as he closed the copy, slipping it into his bag. The original was carefully tucked back into his robes.
Walking back towards the exit, he cast a fleeting glance at Madam Pince, whose wary eyes followed him. He gave her a casual wave, which was met with an unimpressed roll of her eyes.
Without wasting another moment, Jakob hurried down the corridor toward the Herbology classroom. The faint scent of damp earth and greenery hit him as he approached the greenhouse door. He hesitated briefly before knocking.
"Come in!" Professor Sprout's cheerful voice called out from within. Jakob took a steadying breath, preparing his excuse for the late arrival before opening the door.
"Sorry for being late, Professor," he said, catching his breath. "A first-year student fell and scraped their knee, so I helped them to the infirmary before rushing back here."
"Oh dear, well then," Professor Sprout said with a sympathetic smile. "You can stand beside Mr. Longbottom."
Jakob groaned inwardly but kept his expression neutral as he walked over to the Gryffindor side, taking a spot beside Neville Longbottom.
"Today, we'll be working with mandrakes. Does anyone know anything about them?" Sprout asked, scanning the room. Her gaze landed on Hermione Granger, whose hand shot up eagerly.
As Hermione launched into her explanation, Jakob caught Neville mouthing the answer under his breath, almost in sync with her. Jakob leaned in slightly. "Hey," he whispered, keeping his tone casual. Longbottom jumped, nearly dropping his gloves.
"Relax," Jakob said, his voice low and even. "If you knew the answer, why didn't you raise your hand?"
Neville hesitated, his face reddening. "I... I like Herbology, but I'm not really much of a speaker," he mumbled.
Jakob nodded, filing the response away. As the class continued, Professor Sprout instructed them to replant the mandrakes into larger pots, pairing everyone up for the task.
"Show me what you've got," Jakob said, gesturing toward the mandrake before them. Neville hesitated but eventually nodded, rolling up his sleeves and getting to work. Jakob watched closely, his initial scepticism fading as Neville demonstrated surprising skill and precision.
The Gryffindor pointed out subtle signs of overwatering on the mandrake leaves and corrected Jakob's grip on the plant with quiet but confident instructions. Jakob raised an eyebrow, impressed by the show she was given.
"How do you know all this?" Jakob asked, genuinely curious.
Neville shrugged, a faint smile creeping onto his face. "I've got a greenhouse at home. Loads of plants. I spend a lot of time there."
Jakob glanced at the neatly potted mandrake in front of them and felt a twinge of jealousy. Neville wasn't just good—he was annoyingly good. The Slytherin decided then and there that he couldn't let this resource go to waste.
As they packed up, Jakob leaned closer to Neville and said, "If you ever need help with anything, you can come to me."
Neville blinked, taken aback. "Why? Why would you want to help me?" he asked, his tone cautious.
Jakob smirked faintly, nodding toward the mandrakes. "Because if I help you, you can help me get better at Herbology. Fair trade, don't you think?"
Neville hesitated for a moment before giving a small, shy smile. "Yeah, alright. Cool."
Before Jakob could say more, Draco sauntered over, his voice dripping with impatience. "Longbottom, if you can't handle something as simple as Herbology, maybe you should quit school instead of begging Quade for a spot in his little after-class club."
Neville flushed deeply, grabbing his things in a rush. He muttered something under his breath and bolted for the door, his head down.
Jakob glanced at Draco, who looked far too pleased with himself and snorted, not for the reason Draco expected. In fact, it was the opposite.
As the group of Slytherins made their way to lunch, Daphne looped her arm through Jakob's, glancing up at him with a coy smile. Jakob returned the gesture, though his thoughts briefly wandered.
Daphne had always been the girl everyone assumed he'd end up with, and she had a way of making her interest known. But today, for the first time, he found himself worrying about someone else catching them together—a certain someone with a talent for delivering death glares that could make even the bravest feel like they were under an icy curse.
When they entered the Great Hall, Jakob's eyes instinctively scanned the room. His gaze flicked from table to table, subtly searching for the one person he couldn't quite banish from his thoughts. Relieved when he didn't spot her, he let out a quiet breath and followed Daphne to the Slytherin table.
The group settled in, their conversation drifting between upcoming classes and Quidditch tryouts. Jakob listened with half an ear, offering a nod or two when prompted, though his thoughts had already begun to wander.
His gaze drifted across the Great Hall to the Ravenclaw table, where Ella sat beside Luna. The two were engrossed in a lively discussion, their hands moving animatedly as they spoke. Jakob allowed himself a faint smile, lifting a hand in a small wave.
Ella noticed immediately, her face breaking into a bright, cheerful smile as she waved back. Then, just as quickly, she turned her attention back to Luna, diving back into their lively conversation.
Picking at the spread laid out on the Slytherin table, Jakob added a modest pile of roasted potatoes and a few slices of glazed ham to his plate, balancing it with a spoonful of peas. He tore off a piece of bread, chewing idly as Draco and Crabbe went on about Quidditch tryouts. Jakob nodded at intervals, feigning interest while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.
The soft creak of the Great Hall's doors pulled his attention, and his gaze shifted automatically. Amy Frome entered, her presence commanding more of Jakob's focus than he'd like to admit. She moved with her classmates toward the far end of the Slytherin table.
Jakob's eyes followed her, his mind sharpening as she settled into her seat.
Nodding vaguely to Draco's rambling, Jakob set his fork down and rose smoothly to his feet. Daphne glanced up at him, a flicker of curiosity crossing her face, but he offered her a casual smile in return before stepping away.
The book in his hand seemed to grow heavier with each step across the hall, his grip tightening instinctively as though bracing himself for what came next.
He debated for a fleeting second whether this was the right moment, but something in him insisted it had to be.
"Miss Frome," Jakob said as he approached her end of the table, his voice polite but deliberately distant, careful to strip it of any familiarity. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I noticed you'd dropped your book."
Amy turned her head toward him, irritation flashing across her features at the interruption. Her eyes fell on the book in his hand, her brow furrowing as she reached out and snatched it with a quick, almost aggressive motion.
"Thanks. Bye," she said flatly, her tone clipped and dismissive. Without sparing him another glance, she returned to her previous conversation, continuing as if he hadn't been there.
For a moment, Jakob stood rooted to the spot, his hand still hovering where the book had been. Her rudeness had been surprising, even to her classmates, who looked at her slightly surprised. He understood the need for appearances—he wasn't naive—but she didn't need to treat him like shit. The sting of her dismissiveness sparked an irritation he tried to suppress.
The older Slytherins seated nearby had taken notice, their gazes flicking between him and Amy. Some looked amused, their smirks subtle but noticeable. Others simply watched, waiting to see if he would push back or let it slide.
Jakob took a steadying breath, his expression smoothing into neutrality.
"Sorry to disturb you," he muttered, giving a slight nod that went entirely ignored by Amy, who was already engrossed in her conversation with another upper-year girl.
He turned on his heel, walking back to the front of the Slytherin table with measured steps. Sliding into his seat, Jakob picked up his goblet, his grip tightening slightly as irritation simmered beneath his calm facade.
He replayed the encounter in his mind, the sting of her dismissal gnawing at him. Even if she had to act aloof, was it necessary to treat him like a bothersome fly?
The casual cruelty in her indifference unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite shake.
Setting the goblet down, he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to regain his focus. Doubt crept in, uninvited. Would she hold up her end of the deal this afternoon, or was she planning something else entirely? His jaw tightened at the thought.
It annoyed him to even entertain the possibility—she'd never betrayed him before.
I'll wait for the meeting, he resolved, leaning back slightly. She's never given me a reason to doubt her before. Why would she start now?
When lunch ended, Jakob headed to Transfiguration.
The class dragged on, a tedious review of the previous year's lessons coupled with an outline of what they would cover this year. Jakob barely paid attention, already familiar with the topics. At the end of the class, McGonagall assigned them an essay to reflect on the most important thing they learned last year and explain why it mattered. Jakob sighed at the predictability of it all as he gathered his things.
After class, he turned to his friends, already planning his next move. "I have a meeting," he said casually. "I won't be in Potions today, Snape will understand." Without waiting for a response, he made his way down to the dungeons.
When Jakob entered the Slytherin common room, he found four figures waiting for him.
"Miss Frome, Miss Rosier, Miss Vanity, and Mr. Flint," Jakob greeted smoothly, adding a slight bow with each name, his tone polite but formal.
Standing slightly ahead of the others, Amy Frome smiled faintly at him. "You're right on time. Follow us," she said, her tone composed but carrying an undertone of approval.
Jakob nodded, falling in step as they moved toward the door in the common room that now bore neither a king nor queen's title.
When the group had all entered, Jakob lingered by the door, watching as they took their seats. Every chair around the table was occupied except for one—the ornate, throne-like seat meant for a king or queen. Jakob remained standing, his hands casually clasped behind his back as he observed them.
"Mr. Quade," Amy began, her tone formal as she sat in her usual chair rather than the royal one. "We have summoned you here today because of the potential we all see in you."
Jakob nodded but stayed silent, his face carefully neutral even as his mind turned. Didn't she say she was already queen? He thought, masking his confusion.
Sitting to Amy's right, Vanity leaned forward with a sly smile. "We also know you have a rebellious streak and only truly listen to one person in this entire school," she said, her gaze darting to Amy with a knowing smirk.
Ah, Jakob realized, so that's why she acted like that at lunch—showing them she had me under control.
Amy rose from her chair, her movements deliberate as all eyes turned toward her.
"You've proven that you bring a lot to the Slytherin house," she said, her voice steady. "You've shown you can hold your own when it matters most. Because of this, we've decided to offer you something that has never been extended to a second-year before."
Jakob felt his heartbeat quicken, the corners of his lips twitching as he fought back a smirk.
"We are offering you a seat at this table," Amy announced, gesturing to the group seated around her. Jakob's sharp green eyes swept over them, noting their approving expressions. Some seemed more enthusiastic than others, but all of them nodded in support of the decision.
"That also means," Amy continued, "you will attend these meetings and answer only to your queen. But be warned—this position comes with power, and power comes with commitment. There's a reason no second-year has been allowed to join before. This seat isn't something you can abandon when things become difficult. You will be held to your responsibilities until you graduate."
Jakob nodded once, keeping his composure.
"And if your queen—or king—demands you to fall in line," Amy said, her gaze locking on his, "you will do it."
The room fell silent as everyone turned their attention to Jakob, waiting for his response.
"Of course," Jakob replied smoothly, inclining his head in a small bow.
Amy's lips curved into a faint smile. "So. What is your answer, Mr. Quade?"
Jakob let the silence stretch momentarily before allowing a confident smile to break through.
"I accept," he said simply.
They clapped, though some with more enthusiasm than others.
Amy rose from her chair and offered her seat to Jakob. He gave her an appreciated smile before taking it, settling himself with a calm composure.
To his left, Amy carefully moved around the table, looking like a snake circling its prey.
"As everyone now knows, Damon has ended his studies at Hogwarts," she began, her voice carrying an authoritative tone that quieted the room.
"That means a new king—or queen—must be chosen. While I am next in line, I've never believed in simply inheriting the throne like some hand-me-down. So, I propose we hold another vote."
Jakob's lips twitched into a knowing smirk. The confusion on the faces of three of the Slytherin Five was clear as they exchanged glances. But Jakob understood her intent. By allowing a vote rather than simply claiming the throne, Amy was erasing any lingering doubts or suspicions about her involvement in Damon's disappearance. It was a move as strategic as it was brilliant.
"Now that we're five again," Amy continued smoothly, "it's time to vote. I'll call out the names, and you'll raise your wand for the person you support."
She stopped behind the throne, grabbing its silver serpents on its high back.
"Amy Frome," she announced, her sharp gaze looking at each of them, daring anyone to oppose her.
One by one, the members of the Slytherin Five, including Jakob, raised their wands in silent agreement. Amy's smile was slow and controlled as she surveyed the verdict.
"Unanimous," she said, her voice soft but with a hint of satisfaction.
"Exactly as it should be."
Amy took her place on the throne, easing into its seat like it was the perfect fit for her. Once seated, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes briefly, savouring the weight of her new position.
When she opened them again, her gaze held a spark of something sharper, more commanding.
The Slytherin Five were hers now. The Slytherin house was hers.
"Now, on to business," Amy announced, her voice cutting through the lingering silence. The group began to share updates, going around the table.
Marcus Flint was the first to speak. "Quidditch tryouts start next week," he said with his usual gruff tone. "We have three positions to fill, and I've received a generous gift from Lord Malfoy. He's sending the Slytherin team brand-new brooms—top-of-the-line."
Before Marcus could continue, Amy raised her hand, cutting him off. "He's trying to bribe you?" she said with a hint of scepticism. "Lord Malfoy knows the Slytherin code better than most."
Marcus shrugged, clearly unfazed. "He didn't ask for anything in return. He just said it's a gift for the Slytherin house."
Amy leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest, indicating she wasn't entirely convinced. "Quade," she said suddenly, her gaze snapping to Jakob. "As the newest member, why don't you tell us what you think Lord Malfoy's angle is?"
Jakob felt all eyes turn to him. Some of the members looked genuinely curious; others wore smirks as if expecting him to stumble. He straightened slightly in his seat, maintaining his composure.
"My queen," he began, giving a respectful nod, "Lord Malfoy is playing within the rules. By presenting the brooms as a gift to the house, he avoids any overt appearance of favoritism. But it's obvious what he's doing. His son, the heir Malfoy, will almost certainly try out for the Seeker position."
Amy nodded. "Exactly," she said, her neutral expression shifting slightly as she turned back to Marcus. "It's not alchemy."
Marcus muttered something under his breath and looked away, clearly annoyed but unwilling to push back.
"So," Amy continued, her gaze returning to Jakob, "what do you propose we do now that we've received this… bribe?"
Jakob considered his response carefully before speaking. "We accept it," he said evenly. "Returning the... gift would insult Lord Malfoy, which isn't in our best interest. And if the heir Malfoy tries out, he'll be judged on his merit like anyone else. If he earns the position, it's his. If not, then he doesn't make the team."
Rosier, adjusting her glasses, raised an eyebrow at him. "What if your friend doesn't make the cut?" she asked, her tone carrying a hint of challenge.
Jakob met her gaze without hesitation.
"If he doesn't make it, he doesn't make it," he said simply. "Friendship and bribes won't keep the Slytherin team afloat. Only talent will."
Rosier considered his response for a moment before giving a slight nod and turning her attention elsewhere.
Amy smirked, clearly satisfied. "Well said," she murmured, leaning back in her chair as the discussion continued.
"Right then, on to the next matter," Amy said, turning her gaze to Isabella Rosier, who gave a curt nod in acknowledgement.
"There have been whispers," Isabella began, her words carefully chosen, "about what happened to the three boys and Damon. The question is—do the Slytherin Five get involved, or do we let it be?"
The room fell silent, the weight of her words sinking in. For a moment, no one spoke.
"Do we even know what happened to those three Slytherins?" Marcus asked uncertainly.
No answers came. Amy took a slow breath, her expression calm but resolute as she scanned the table.
"We don't meddle," she said firmly. "It's as you said, Isabella—rumors. Nothing more. They'll fade in time, as rumors always do."
Her gaze lingered on each member before continuing, her tone sharpening. "As for Damon…" She paused, ensuring every eye was on her before speaking again.
"He ran," she said plainly. "The moment his friend was killed and the others were sent away for the crime, he chose cowardice. That's why he left Hogwarts, and that's the truth."
Amy straightened, overlapping her hands on the table. "We will not waste our time on him. This, too, will die out in time."
Isabella nodded her agreement before Amy shifted her attention to Abby Vanity. "Abby, what's next on the agenda?"
"My queen," Rosier began, with a respectful tone, "Two Gryffindors in the fourth year have been targeting our first-years with pranks. It's gone too far, and we need to step in to protect them."
Amy sighed, leaning back in her chair. "The bloody Weasley twins, no doubt."
She shifted her gaze to Rosier and Flint. "The two of you will handle it. Make sure they understand that the Slytherin house isn't to be trifled with."
Flint and Rosier exchanged a look, smirking as they nodded in agreement.
Amy then turned her attention to Jakob, her sharp eyes settling on him. "And now, to our youngest member. Quade, do you have anything to report?"
Jakob shook his head. "Nothing at this moment, my queen."
Amy gave him a short nod before returning her focus to the rest of the group. The meeting moved on to discuss potential fallouts from recent events and strategies to address any issues that might arise. They covered everything from internal house dynamics to broader matters involving other houses, ensuring all angles were considered.
When the meeting concluded, chairs scraped back as the others rose to leave. Jakob moved to follow, but as he reached the door, something unseen stopped him in his tracks. The sensation was subtle yet undeniable, like an invisible tether holding him in place.
The door clicked shut, leaving him alone in the room with Amy. He turned slowly, his curiosity piqued as he met her gaze.
"Now we've both kept our ends of the deal," Amy said, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction as Jakob turned to face her.
"You'll make a fine queen," Jakob replied sincerely as he stepped toward her. "I look forward to standing beside you for the next two years."
Amy's lips curled into a smirk, a mix of confidence and something softer. As he came close enough, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned in, pressing her lips to his. Jakob didn't hesitate, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer.
Her breath was warm against his cheek when they parted for a moment. "I have to go soon," she murmured, her tone lighter now, almost teasing. "But I wanted to thank you for retrieving my book. You really are a gentleman, you know."
She kissed him again; this time, it lingered deeper and more consuming. Her hands clung lightly to the fabric of his robes as the space between them disappeared. Jakob felt her intensity, and he matched it, his grip tightening as if to hold onto the moment just a little longer.
But Amy broke the kiss, her breaths uneven as she stepped back. A faint blush coloured her cheeks, and she avoided his eyes for a fleeting second before looking back at him, a sly smile returning to her lips. "I told you I needed to go," she said, the teasing edge in her voice resurfacing. "We'll continue this later. Okay?"
Jakob exhaled through his nose, nodding with reluctant acceptance. "Okay," he said, his voice quieter now.
Amy gave him a final smile, her fingers brushing his arm for just a moment before she turned toward the door. She glanced back at him once before disappearing into the corridor beyond, leaving Jakob standing there in the quiet.
Jakob went to the Great Hall for dinner, settling in at the Slytherin table alongside his friends. The chatter around him was lively, but he barely had a moment to take a bite before an unmistakable voice rang out behind him.
"Mr. Quade, I was rather displeased to see that you weren't knocking on my door yesterday!"
Jakob's jaw tightened as he turned slowly, his expression pained. Across the table, Draco, already smirking, nudged Theo, who was mid-conversation with Blaise. The trio quickly relished Jakob's evident discomfort.
Jakob forced a charming smile as he faced the man. "I'm terribly sorry, Professor Lockhart," he replied smoothly. "I was helping a first-year with their potions homework."
Lockhart's dazzling grin widened, clearly pleased with the response. "Of course you were, Mr. Quade. Such a dependable student. Rest assured, I'll grant you the unforgettable opportunity to assist me again when the time is right."
Jakob nodded politely as Lockhart turned on his heel, departing in his usual dramatic fashion. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jakob let out an audible groan.
"Why is he so insistent on bothering me?" Jakob muttered, glancing at his friends. "I hate that guy. He's utterly useless."
Draco couldn't help but chuckle, nudging Theo again. Blaise joined in, his grin infectious as the trio clearly enjoyed Jakob's torment.
Jakob, growing irritated, pulled out his wand and pointed it in their general direction, a mischievous glint in his narrowed eyes. Both Draco and Theo raised their hands in mock surrender, their laughter stifling into snickers.
"Alright, mate, hear me out," Theo said, raising an eyebrow. "You might want to dial down on the overachieving just a bit."
"Why?" Jakob asked, his wand still poised as if the boys were his captives, though his tone carried a playful edge.
Theo grinned, leaning forward slightly. "Because Lockhart wants you to help him with his fan mail. Think about it—you know everything, right? You could probably sound more like him than he can in those letters."
Jakob lowered his wand, stunned by the suggestion. "That's… that's actually brilliant, Theo," he admitted, shaking his head. "I can't believe I didn't think of that."
Draco, leaning back, gave Theo a mock pat on the shoulder. "Well done, mate. Not entirely useless after all."
Jakob sighed, leaning back in his seat as he considered the implications. "So, I'm either punished for being too smart or stuck writing that insufferable man's fan mail."
"It's still better than failing the class, though," Theo said with a shrug, and the unspoken weight of the alternative hung in the air. Draco and Theo both knew the kind of repercussions Jakob would face at home if he failed—something none of them envied.
After dinner, Jakob climbed the stairs toward the designated classroom for his club's second meeting with the first and second years. He noted with relief that, once again, there were no Slytherins among the attendees. That, at least, would save him the effort of navigating house politics tonight.
The students filed inside, and Jakob began as he had last time—circulating through the room, offering guidance and encouragement to most of the participants. As usual, he avoided interacting with the two he would rather not have in his classroom at all. He focused on the others, ensuring they understood the tasks with an efficient yet cool demeanour.
When the meeting ended, the students began packing their bags, their chatter filling the room.
Jakob had been looking forward to a longer conversation with Hermione after the others left.
He turned to her, ready to start, but stopped short as she gave him an apologetic smile. Before he could say a word, she hurried out the door, flanked by Harry and Ron, who had been waiting for her just outside.
Jakob blinked, surprised, as the door clicked shut behind them.
"Huh… that was weird," he muttered to himself with a faint frown.
He knew Hermione had been forging new friendships, particularly with Potter and Weasley, but it stung a little to feel her slipping away.
Last year had been intense between them, and he'd assumed this year would give them more time to build on the connection they'd developed. Instead, it seemed she was the one drifting now, too busy with her new bonds.
"They grow up so fast," Jakob murmured with a sad smile, shaking his head as he sank into his chair.
Pulling out a book on rituals, he opened it to where he'd left off. He had been poring over its contents for weeks, trying to uncover what he might have done wrong with Pansy and the ritual.
But as the days passed, he found himself searching less and less, the drive to uncover an answer waning.
He told himself it was because there was nothing to find. Yet, deep down, he knew the truth was more complicated.
Their bond—whatever it had become—wasn't just because of the ritual; it had been built on everything they'd endured together.
It wasn't perfect, but it was theirs. Still, he flipped through the pages, half-heartedly looking for an answer he wasn't entirely sure he wanted anymore.
Jakob decided to take an evening stroll, hoping to avoid the inevitable storm that would erupt in the Slytherin common room once news of his new position among the Slytherin Five spread. The crisp night air was a welcome reprieve, and his footsteps echoed softly as he descended the stone steps toward Hagrid's hut.
As he approached, the sight of the enormous man doubled over in distress stopped Jakob in his tracks. A pile of dead roosters lay at Hagrid's feet. Jakob frowned, his instincts sharpening as he walked closer.
"Hagrid?" Jakob called out, his voice cautious. His gaze flicked to the bloodied scene before settling on the giant man.
Hagrid jolted, his massive frame twisting toward the boy. "Jakob! Don't sneak up on people like that!" he boomed, his voice shaking with emotion.
"What happened here?" the Slytherin asked, his tone steadier now as he gestured toward the grisly pile of birds.
Hagrid wiped his face with one enormous hand, sniffing loudly. "I don't know, lad. Someone must've thought it'd be a funny prank, I reckon," he muttered, his shoulders slumping further.
Jakob stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the dead roosters.
The injuries were precise—each bird had a single stab wound, all located in the same spot. His stomach churned slightly at the sight, but his mind was already working through everything he had read about it.
"Hagrid," Jakob said slowly, "I don't think this was a joke." He crouched down, pointing to the wounds. "They went straight for the heart. Every single one of them."
Hagrid blinked at the boy, his confusion evident. "What's that supposed to mean then?" he asked, his voice cracking.
Jakob straightened, brushing his hands on his robes as he considered his words. "It means," he began, meeting Hagrid's tear-filled eyes, "that this wasn't random. Someone knew exactly what they were doing. You should take this to Dumbledore—immediately."
Hagrid looked down at the roosters again, his expression torn between grief and uncertainty. "You think it's that serious?"
Jakob nodded, his tone firm. "Yes. And it's better to be safe than sorry."
They talked for a few more minutes, Hagrid voicing his sadness and disbelief at the cruel act while Jakob tried his best to provide a logical approach to the situation.
Eventually, Jakob said his goodbyes, unable to endure the sight of the half-giant crying any longer. As he walked away, the image of the stab wounds lingered in his mind.
Something about them tugged at his memory, a vague familiarity he couldn't quite place. Were they part of a ritual? Or was it something else entirely? The thought gnawed at him as he returned to the castle.
When Jakob returned to the Slytherin common room, he was greeted by the unexpected sound of applause. The space was alive with cheers and congratulatory gestures, and Jakob blinked in surprise, his usual calm demeanour momentarily disrupted.
Draco was the first to approach, his voice raised above the commotion. "You didn't tell us you became a member of the Slytherin Five!" he exclaimed, clearly both impressed and indignant.
"I wasn't allowed to," Jakob replied with a casual shrug, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"Well, good job, mate!" Draco said, his usual haughty tone replaced with genuine pride as he clapped Jakob on the back.
Jakob looked around at the faces in the room, many of which bore expressions of admiration and approval. He leaned closer to Draco, lowering his voice. "Why are they clapping?"
"Because," Blaise said, stepping forward and extending his hand for a firm shake, "you're the first second-year ever to join the Slytherin Five. It's an honor for everyone here to witness that."
Jakob nodded, shaking Blaise's hand with a quiet "Thank you" before stepping back. As the applause began to die down, he made his way over to the couch where his friends were gathered. Sitting down, he noticed Pansy among the crowd. She had clapped along with the rest, but unlike Draco and Blaise, she hadn't come up to congratulate him. Her expression was harder to read, and she kept her distance, remaining seated with Tracey and Daphne.
Jakob leaned back onto the couch, feeling the day's weight settle on him. He exchanged a few casual words with his friends, but his mind wandered, taking note of Pansy's silence. He chose not to address it, giving her the space he sensed she wanted.
Later, as the common room began to quiet, Jakob stood and said goodnight to the remaining students before heading to his room. Inside, he brushed his teeth, changed into his boxers, and sat on his bed. Reaching for the copied Grimoire, he flipped it open, scanning the familiar pages. The cool night air drifted in from his slightly open window, and he glanced toward it.
"Saliza must've gone out," he mused, noting the gap in the window. The absence of her usual coiled warmth made the room feel emptier than normal, but Jakob settled in, letting the quiet wrap around him as he read.
Jakob leaned closer to the ancient pages, his fingers tracing the edges as he read.
"I have yet to fully grasp the depth of the power bestowed upon me, but I can state with unwavering certainty: those who bear this gift shall not suffer the withering sickness brought by the wielding of dark magicks. Unlike the weak who falter beneath its weight, the chosen are immune to such decay."
Jakob's breath caught for a moment, his eyes widening in wonder. This… this is new, he thought, a thrill of curiosity coursing through him. He turned the page with care, his expression reminiscent of a child unwrapping a long-awaited gift.
"In my youth, I was drawn to the seductive pull of the forbidden arts. Again and again, I sought counsel with Merlin, pleading with him to help uncover a means to harness the darkness without succumbing to its inevitable cost—the creeping hands of madness and death clawing ever closer with each spell cast. Yet Merlin, for all his wisdom, was a righteous fool. He dismissed my quest as folly, his words filled with fear and failure: failed rituals, broken lives, and untimely deaths. But I knew, deep in my soul, that I was destined to uncover what he could not. Where he lacked courage, I was resolute. Where he feared, I would prevail."
"My journey took me across lands bathed in heat, where the sands burned beneath the sun and the people rose with the stars and rested with the day. Among ancient ruins whispered of in hushed tones, I found what I sought: a stone tablet etched with runes so ancient their meanings would have been lost to time, had I not coaxed Merlin to aid me one last time. Unwillingly, he deciphered them, revealing a ritual, a gate, and the promise of power. But Merlin's cowardice betrayed him. He sought to destroy what I had uncovered, fearing its potential. That very night, Merlin met his end. His death was an unfortunate yet necessary offering to the greater path I walked."
"The ritual demanded precision. When the night is at its darkest and the moon's face is shrouded in shadow, that is when the gate may be opened. Some name it Inferna; others whisper of the Abis, but I know it by its true name: Hell."
Jakob's eyes fell on the intricate illustration before him—a pentagram, inverted and surrounded by carefully carved runes. The depiction showed a woman outside its perimeter, her hands raised in invocation, while a smaller figure lay prone in its centre. He read on, his heart pounding.
"Each rune, each line, had to be carved with flawless precision, lest the ritual fail and invite ruin. I prepared the sacred circle, and for the offering, I chose one pure of heart and untouched by the corruptions of the flesh—not yet fifteen summers. A virgin, untainted, her blood would be my key."
"The incantation burned upon my tongue as I spoke it: Tenebrae Obediunt Mihi. Darkness obeys me. The gate answered. The earth trembled, and from its cracks came the wailing of the abyss. Blood flowed freely, and her cries pierced the night. The shadows claimed her, pulling her to the depths as the ground itself opened to swallow her whole. And then it came—him. The shadowed being who took her form reached toward me. Its voice echoed within my soul, offering a gift in exchange for my devotion."
"I chose darkness. A fragment of the shadow severed itself, floating toward me. I opened myself willingly, embracing it as it bound itself to my very essence. My soul became one with the void, and in that moment, I became eternal."
Jakob's fingers hovered over the words as he processed them. His frown deepened as he murmured, "Tenebrae Obediunt Mihi… Darkness obeys me." He shook his head slightly, disturbed yet compelled, and flipped the page.
Just as he began to read again, a voice jolted him back to reality.
"What are you reading?" Pansy's voice broke the silence as she stepped into the room.
Jakob nearly jumped out of his skin, slamming the book shut hurriedly. "Pansy!" he hissed his heart racing, his hand gripping the book tighter than necessary.
Her curious gaze darted between him and the closed book. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she teased, but her smile faltered as she stepped closer. "What's in that book?"
"Just a book with symbols," Jakob replied casually, sliding the book out of sight with a deliberate motion.
Pansy tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "Have you been reading it since you got back?"
Jakob nodded silently.
Her gaze flicked to where he had stashed the book, curiosity evident, but she didn't press further. Instead, she offered him a soft smile, walking closer. "So… I'm happy for you. You finally made it into the Slytherin Five. Amy must be thrilled."
Jakob returned her smile with a small nod. "She is," he admitted, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he added, "but you don't look as excited."
Pansy shook her head quickly, her smile faltering. "I am. It's not that. It's just…" She hesitated, glancing at the floor before meeting his gaze again. "Now you'll be spending more time with her, and I don't know…"
Jakob sighed, pulling her closer without hesitation. "Nothing's changing, alright?" he said firmly. "Stop worrying about that. We're friends, and whatever we have—whatever this is—it doesn't concern anyone else. And besides," he added with a small smirk, "Amy and I are not a couple. Probably won't be at Hogwarts, anyway."
Pansy let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Alright. Good." She paused, looking up at him with a more serious expression. "But… whatever happens, it doesn't concern anyone else, and you won't ever break our agreement?"
Jakob laughed lightly at the sudden shift in her tone, but when he saw the intensity in her gaze, he stopped. His expression softened as he nodded. "Yeah. No breaking it," he said sincerely. "I promise."
Pansy seemed satisfied with that answer, the tension in her expression fading as she relaxed against him.
The days passed quickly; before Jakob knew it, Quidditch tryouts were upon them. Despite his reluctance, he had promised Draco he would give it a go, though he couldn't fathom how he'd balance it with everything else on his plate.
Standing on the Quidditch pitch alongside a crowd of other eager Slytherins, Jakob his own shiny new Nimbus 2001. Draco, holding an identical broom, looked far more enthusiastic.
"mate, you could try looking a little less bored," Draco quipped, glancing at his friend's disinterested expression.
"Honestly, Draco, this is your thing, not mine," Jakob replied flatly, shifting the broom in his grip. "Besides, if you don't make the team, I—"
"I won't. Im only doing this because blah blah blah," Draco interrupted, waving him off. "Come on, don't be a drag. This is going to be fun."
Jakob raised an eyebrow as Draco gave him a playful punch on the shoulder.
"Bloody hell, do you want me to curse you? Smile a little," Draco added, his confidence dimming slightly at Jakob's unimpressed look.
Seeing that his best friend was eager to share this moment with him, Jakob forced a smile. "Alright, whatever. What are you trying out for?"
Draco scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Probably Seeker. But if I end up as a Chaser, I could live with that. How about you?"
Jakob's eyes drifted toward a group of older students approaching the pitch with a heavy chest in tow. "Probably Seeker," he replied casually, "but I guess I could roll with being a Chaser aswell."
Draco's eyes narrowed, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. "You're joking, right?"
Jakob allowed the silence to hang for a moment, then chuckled. "Of course, I'm joking. I'd never go for Chaser."
"But you look so big and strong," Draco said, knowing that if his friend were to be his competition, he would probably win. "Wouldn't you be better suited as a Beater?"
Jakob rolled his eyes. But then, as the blond's words sunk in, he frowned. What Draco suggested wasn't a bad idea.
"Maybe. Atleast then I wouldn't have to bother showing up for every practice. Just smash some Bludgers during games and call it a day."
Draco, a little too relieved, laughed and was about to reply, but it was cut off as Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey stepped onto the pitch, their commanding presence silencing the chatter of the gathered Slytherins.
"Today, you'll be trying out for the best team in Hogwarts," Marcus announced, his voice carrying across the pitch with the authority of a seasoned captain. "This will not be easy, and don't expect status," he added, his gaze briefly settling on Jakob, who responded with a faint smirk.
"Or other advantages," Marcus continued, this time giving Draco a pointed look.
"Will help you here. Slytherin will win the Cup this year, and we'll do it because we are the best—not because of favoritism or handouts."
The gathered group nodded in agreement. Marcus gave a satisfied nod before motioning for everyone to gather into groups.
"Quade," Marcus called, his sharp eyes landing on Jakob, "what position are you trying out for?"
Jakob glanced at Draco with a sly grin. "Beater."
Marcus raised an eyebrow but nodded, handing him a bat. "Fine. Grab your broom and line up."
He turned to Draco next. "Malfoy, you're trying out for Seeker."
Draco's face lit up with a confident grin as he straddled his broom.
Jakob's team was marked as the red team, while Draco's was assigned to the blue. As the teams formed up, Jakob noted that many of his teammates were older students—faces he recognized but didn't know personally. Now that he was part of the Slytherin Five, he supposed it was time to start paying more attention to his housemates.
"Alright," Marcus shouted, "take your positions! Let's see what you've got!"
Jakob mounted his broom, gripping the bat tightly in his hand as he rose into the air.
The game began with a burst of energy, the red team quickly taking possession of the Quaffle. Jakob hovered high above the action, scanning the pitch when a Bludger barreled toward him. With a sharp swing of his bat, he redirected it toward one of the opposing Chasers just as they were closing in on his teammate.
The impact sent the Chaser wobbling dangerously on their broom, almost falling off. Jakob smirked, satisfied with his aim, but his moment of triumph didn't last long.
A small, dark-blonde girl from the opposing team darted below the Chaser, who held the Quaffle and shot upward, snatching it in one swift motion.
She moved with precision and speed that belied her small stature, weaving through the air effortlessly. Jakob barely had time to process her manoeuvre before she passed the ball to a teammate, who, in panic, immediately sent it back to her.
Spotting a Bludger, Jakob swung hard, sending it hurtling toward her teammate. The Bludger connected, striking the boy on the head and sending him plummeting off his broom. But the girl didn't falter. She charged toward the right goal hoop and, with an expertly aimed throw, scored.
Jakob narrowed his eyes in surprise and flew down toward her.
"You did well there," he called out, his tone neutral but curious. "What's your name?"
The girl shot him a glare before flying away without a word.
The Quaffle was released again, and Jakob was ready this time.
As she moved to intercept it, he cut her off mid-flight, forcing her to pull back.
Jakob backed off slightly, scanning the pitch until he spotted another Bludger. He swung his bat with precision, sending it directly toward her. But she was quick—rolling smoothly to the side, avoiding the Bludger with ease and continuing the game.
Despite Jakob's best efforts, the girl continued to impress. Her speed and agility made her a formidable Chaser, and she was even on a standard school broom.
Meanwhile, Draco, who had been helping his team in the early stages, realized his assistance wasn't needed. He turned his attention to finding the Snitch, letting the others handle the Quaffle.
Draco's focus paid off. After forty-five minutes of circling the pitch, he spotted the Snitch and dived. Before Jakob's Seeker even realized what was happening, Draco's fingers closed around the golden ball, sealing the victory for his team.
Jakob, drenched in sweat and visibly irritated, cursed under his breath. "Bloody incompetent team," he muttered as Flint blew the whistle, signalling the end of the tryouts.
The players began descending to the pitch, Draco smirking triumphantly as he joined Jakob.
"You looked a bit stressed up there, mate," Draco teased, tossing the Snitch lightly in his hand.
Jakob rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't have looked so calm with that girl making a fool out of my team."
The group gathered around Flint as he addressed the team. "We have three spots to fill, and I'll call out the names of those who earned them," he announced. The students, still buzzing with energy from the tryouts, fell silent.
"For seeker, we've chosen Mr. Malfoy."
Draco pumped his fist in the air triumphantly while the other hopefuls for the position dispersed, some grumbling in disappointment.
Jakob couldn't help but smirk as Draco beamed, clearly relishing his victory.
"For chaser, we've decided on Tornbell," Marcus continued.
A boy stepped forward, his confidence radiating. Jakob noted that Tornbell had performed decently but had heavily relied on the girl's exceptional plays to shine.
"And for beater, we've chosen Quade." Flint barely finished the sentence before Jakob raised his hand, cutting him off mid-announcement.
"Hold up," Jakob said, walking toward Marcus and Pucey, who both looked irritated at the interruption. Jakob's face mirrored theirs, not understanding what was going through their heads. "With all due respect, heir Flint, why not pick the girl? She was the star of the match."
Marcus scowled but leaned closer and lowered his voice.
"Quade, if you haven't noticed, we're a guys only team. Adding more girls will complicate things. Sure, everyone can try out—it's the rule—but we decide who gets in."
Jakob turned slightly, his eyes catching the disappointment in the girl's gaze. She stood silently among the group, her body language betraying the tension in her shoulders.
Jakob's jaw tightened.
"Marcus, listen to me," Jakob pressed. "Take her on the team and drop the idiot. I guarantee she'll win the game for us."
Marcus hesitated, his eyes flickering to Pucey, who gave him a smirk and a shrug.
"Tell you what, Quade," Marcus said, crossing his arms. "If she helps us win against Gryffindor, I'll put her on the team. But if she fails—"
"500 Galleons," Jakob interrupted smoothly, his voice carrying enough weight to make the majority of the group gasp in unison. "I'll pay you 500 Galleons for the trouble if she fails."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, his smirk fading as he considered the stakes. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"
Jakob nodded, his tone resolute. "As I've said before, it doesn't matter who you are—only that you make the Slytherin house proud."
Jakob extended his hand toward Marcus, but before the older boy could take it, Jakob added with a sharp look, "If anyone on our team sabotages her or the game, the deal is off. Agreed?"
Marcus snorted. "Like I'd purposely lose to Gryffindor."
Jakob's lips curled into a satisfied smile as they shook hands. The girl's eyes, though still cautious, lit up faintly with renewed hope. She didn't say a word, but her tightened grip on her broom said enough.
"Alright, you all heard what Quade said. Tornbell, you'll be a substitute until—what's your name?" Marcus asked, his gaze shifting to the dark-blonde girl.
"Clara Nott," the girl replied steadily, though the faint tension in her posture betrayed her nerves.
"Miss Nott," Marcus repeated, giving her a measured look. "You'll play against Gryffindor. That will decide whether you're truly worthy of Slytherin."
Clara nodded, her grip on her old school broom tightening. The group began to disperse, heading back toward the castle.
Jakob slung an arm around Draco's shoulders as they walked.
"Good job, mate. I knew you'd make it on talent alone," Jakob said, his words casual but sincere.
Draco smirked, about to respond with some boastful remark when a voice interrupted them from behind.
"Thank you, heir Quade. I won't forget this," Clara Nott said, her tone even though the gratitude in her words was unmistakable.
Jakob turned, his arm slipping off Draco as he faced the girl. She stood clutching her broom tightly. He stepped toward her, Draco lingering behind with a raised eyebrow.
"I've bet a lot of money that you will," Jakob replied casually, his eyes flicking to the old broom in her hands. "So, I really hope you don't disappoint."
"Why don't you have your own?" Jakob asked, gesturing toward the battered broomstick.
Clara hesitated, glancing down at it like she was ashamed to admit the answer. "My father didn't think I'd make the team," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "He doesn't see the point in me even playing, so he never got me one…"
Jakob studied her momentarily, feeling an odd sense of respect from the upper-year girl.
She spoke to him with the same respect the first years often showed. It was strange, but then again, as a member of the Slytherin Five, this was something he'd better get used to.
"You're Theo's sister, right?" Jakob asked, tilting his head slightly.
Clara nodded. "Yes, he's my little brother."
Jakob smirked faintly, reaching out to hand her his Nimbus 2001. "Well, make your little brother proud then. He's a friend of mine."
Clara's eyes widened in disbelief as she looked at the broom he was offering her. "I… I can't. It's…"
"Take it," Jakob interrupted, rolling his eyes and pushing the broom into her hands. "If you played that well on an old broom, I can't wait to see what you'll do with this. If you make the team for the next game, your father will get you a new one. If not, you can keep this."
"What?!" Draco blurted from behind, his voice a mix of disbelief and irritation.
Jakob ignored him, focusing on Clara, who hesitated before clutching the broom tightly. "See it as an investment," he added. "If you win for Slytherin, you'll have paid it off. And if you make it to the pro leagues someday, I'll expect front-row seats at your games."
Clara's expression shifted to one of shock, then quiet determination and happiness. She nodded firmly, her hands gripping the broom with a mix of disbelief and gratitude.
Jakob turned back to Draco, whose face was frozen in a "what the hell did you just do" expression.
"Don't be weird, Draco. You know I can buy as many brooms as I want," Jakob said with a shrug. "Besides, your father only gave new brooms to the current team. The new additions need one too."
"But you don't have one now, you idiot!" Draco shot back, his incredulous look remaining firmly in place.
"I'll owl Susie to get me a new one," Jakob replied nonchalantly. "And I'm a beater. I don't need to come to practice. I'll have plenty of time to get one."
Draco shook his head, muttering something under his breath as they resumed walking toward the castle and the changing rooms to prepare for their next class.
The rest of the week passed in a blur, and soon the weekend arrived.
Jakob had spent most of it trying to find a moment to talk with Amy, but she was preoccupied with rallying the Slytherins and managing the house's internal matters. It left little time for anything personal.
Now, Jakob sat on the couch in the Slytherin common room, Saliza nestled inside his robes.
In her usual cryptic way, she had claimed that she needed "more of him," though Jakob wasn't entirely sure what she meant. Still, her presence was comforting, her soft movements and warmth a quiet reminder of her bond with him.
Jakob had his nose buried in the book he'd been studying. It was a slow read, recounting Morgan le Fay's life.
In the years following my awakening to the gift, I sought not only to wield this power but to master it. The darkness, though potent, was wild—a tempest tied to my emotions, surging forth only when my spirit burned with anger or despair. Such lack of control was unbecoming, unworthy of the strength I carried. Thus, I set forth on the path to refine my dominion over it.
In those days, I took a husband, for even those blessed with the arcane must attend to the demands of their lineage. From our union came a son, a boy who, even in his infancy, bore the spark of potential. Yet I did not linger long on matters of hearth and kinship; my attention remained fixed on unlocking the mysteries of my gift.
Through study and relentless practice, I learned to call upon the darkness without the chaos of heightened emotion. It became a tool, no longer a wild beast but an extension of my will. The power would rise at my command, steady and loyal, as a hound to its master.
To test the fullness of my control, I chose a thief who had dared to steal from my lands. A lowly man, bereft of magic, he was a fitting subject. He knelt before me, his hands bound and his head bowed, though his pleas for mercy were ignored. This act was not driven by malice but by necessity. The gift must be sharpened like a blade, and every blade needs a stone.
I raised my hand, the darkness stirring within me. My voice, calm and resolute, carried the command: 'Impetum.'
The shadows obeyed without hesitation, surging forth in a straight, unwavering strike. They pierced the thief's chest, silencing him in an instant. His body collapsed to the ground, lifeless, a clean hole left where the darkness had passed through. The edges of the wound bore faint scorch marks, evidence of its precision.
I stood over him. The shadows receded at my will, dissipating as easily as they had come. I did not flinch, nor did my resolve waver. This was not an act of cruelty—it was proof of mastery. For the first time, I wielded the darkness as one wields a blade—not as an unbridled force but as a tool shaped by my command.
With this act, I understood the depth of my power. It is not rage, nor fear, nor grief that defines the wielder, but control. The darkness is loyal to those who prove worthy of its embrace, and in that moment, I knew it was mine to command."
Intrigued, Jakob snapped the book shut, the soft sound breaking the quiet hum of the common room. He stood, careful not to disturb Saliza, as he slipped out of the room and into the dormitory.
It was empty, just as he'd hoped. Jakob lowered himself to the floor, crossing his legs as he took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, allowing the silence to settle around him.
At first, there was nothing—just the steady rhythm of his breathing and the faint rustle of his robes.
Minutes passed, and frustration began to simmer beneath the surface. Jakob's breaths quickened, his focus narrowing. Then, faintly, he felt it—a flicker of something deep inside, a presence he hadn't noticed before.
His mind conjured an image: a glowing sphere of blue light surrounded by swirling darkness that pulsed like a living thing.
"I've found it," Jakob whispered, his voice low and steady.
He commanded the darkness to rise, to answer his call.
Opening his eyes, he clenched his hand into a fist and slowly unfurled his fingers. Wisps of dark mist began to rise, curling upward like smoke from a dying fire.
Jakob stared at it, awestruck. He tried to move his hand closer, to feel the mist, but the connection snapped. The tendrils dissipated into nothing.
Jakob exhaled sharply, leaning back against the wall. Saliza shifted slightly against his chest but didn't stir.
"Figures," Jakob muttered, shaking his head. "It's never easy."
He tried again, determination etched into his features. Time stretched as he sat there, chasing the elusive connection. Each failure left him more frustrated, but he refused to give up.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he unclenched his fist once more. This time, the darkness was stronger and denser, its movements sharper and more deliberate.
Jakob turned his gaze to the desk lamp across the room. His voice was firm as he whispered, "Impetum."
The mist responded instantly. It surged forward in a concentrated stream, slamming into the lamp. The object disintegrated on impact, reduced to a pile of blackened powder.
The beam didn't stop—it struck the wall behind, carving a deep hole into the stone. The impact echoed through the dorm, a deep, resonant vibration unlike anything Jakob had ever heard before.
When it finished, Jakob had to steady himself, one hand gripping the back of a chair as his breathing came unevenly. Straightening up with effort, he moved toward the destruction. He crouched beside the remnants of the lamp, his fingers brushing through the fine black powder, the texture gritty and almost unreal beneath his touch.
Rising slowly, Jakob let his other hand drift over the edges of the hole in the wall. The stone was still warm to the touch, faintly radiating the power that had carved through it. His fingers traced the uneven surface, marvelling at the depth and precision of the damage.
"Holy shit," he muttered under his breath, the gravity of his newfound ability sinking in.
A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, making him stumble. He pressed a hand against the wall for support, his vision swimming. Letting out a shaky laugh, Jakob tried to steady himself.
"Must have taken a lot out of me," he murmured, his voice tinged with exhaustion. But as he straightened, stars danced at the edges of his vision.
"Not good," Jakob managed to whisper before everything tilted violently. The last thing he felt was the cool stone floor against his cheek as darkness claimed him.
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