Author's Note:
Happy New Year! I wanted to share this today, so sorry if there are any small misses in the text. I thought it might bring a bit of company or distraction to anyone who could use it tonight. If you enjoy the chapter, don't forget to leave a review, like, and follow. Cheers!
Chapter 31: Quidditch, party and a whisper.
For two weeks, Jakob had been trying to master his newfound power of darkness that lingered just beyond his reach.
Every attempt ended the same—unconsciousness. On one particularly disastrous day, he had barely managed to stumble to the corner of the room to vomit before collapsing. When he woke, Pansy was standing over him, arms crossed and an expression caught somewhere between anger and disgust.
She had spent the next thirty-five minutes pacing the dorm, her sharp voice alternating between scolding him for being reckless and muttering complaints about the smell. Jakob had been sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling thoroughly chastened and embarrassed.
The day before their first Quidditch match against Gryffindor, Jakob sat alone in his classroom, leaning over his desk with his book spread open in front of him.
The steady rustle of turning pages broke the stillness, each flip of the parchment a methodical search for answers.
Hermione's abrupt exit still lingered at the edge of his mind. Once again, she'd been pulled away by Potter and Weasley without so much as a full goodbye. It was becoming a pattern, one that Jakob found harder to ignore. But tonight, he forced the irritation aside. He had other priorities.
His fingers tightened on the book's edges as he leaned closer, the flickering light from a single candle by his desk casting dancing shadows across the text. Somewhere in these pages, there had to be a way—something to make his darkness respond without the side effects that always followed.
Jakob noted that Morgan had been 34 when she received the gift. There was little mention of her son beyond a brief acknowledgement that the shadow lay dormant within him. The lack of detail left him restless. He exhaled sharply, closing the book and setting it aside.
"Either I wait for my body to grow or…" Jakob started, his voice low as he tried to piece the answer together. He stopped mid-sentence, the words refusing to form. He leaned forward, staring at the open book in front of him as if it might offer him a solution.
He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration building. "I don't understand. I've already done one ritual. It shouldn't be this difficult. It doesn't make sense."
He sat there momentarily, the silence pressing around him as his fingers tapped impatiently on the desk. His gaze fell back to the book, and he muttered to himself, almost absentmindedly, "Ritual…"
The word echoed in his mind, and suddenly, something clicked. His hand froze mid-tap, and his eyes widened as the realization struck. Without another moment's hesitation, he bolted for the Slytherin common room.
The stone wall slid open to admit him, and he swept inside, ignoring the calls from his friends lounging by the fireplace. His stride was purposeful, brisk. There was no time for idle chatter.
Reaching his dormitory, Jakob pushed the door open and headed straight for his trunk. Kneeling, he flipped it open and stepped inside, descending into the hidden library that was his refuge. The soft glow of enchanted torches lit the shelves around him, casting long shadows as he began searching for answers.
"Where are you?" Jakob muttered under his breath, his fingers brushing over the spines of the books lining his shelves. His green eyes scanned the titles with growing impatience.
"Aha!" he exclaimed, his hand pausing on a worn red book he'd read the previous year. The title, embossed in faded gold, stood out to him—Rituals of Blood and Power.
He pulled it from the shelf, the weight of the book feeling heavier in his hands than he remembered. Jakob quickly flipped through the brittle pages, the sound of parchment rustling faintly in the quiet space. His search halted when he found the illustration he sought—a complex diagram of runes encircling a dark, shadowy figure. Beneath it, the text read.
To perform a blood ritual, one must offer a sacrifice potent enough to fuel the magic.
This sacrifice is often one's own blood, though more demanding rituals require a life.
Magic, pure and undiluted, is the most powerful fuel. Imbalance between the sacrifice and the request will result in failure—or death.
Jakob sat back in his armchair, the book balanced on his knee.
"So, I need a sacrifice with magical blood equal to what I wish to enhance within myself," he murmured.
His brow furrowed as he considered the implications. "That would mean killing someone—or something—with the magical reserves I need,"
His thoughts turned to the Forbidden Forest. It was teeming with magical creatures, each brimming with the kind of power the ritual demanded. But the idea of sneaking into the forest and taking a life wasn't just dangerous—it was reckless. The consequences would be disastrous if he were caught.
"Shit," Jakob muttered disappointedly, leaning back and closing the book with a snap. "I need to find another way. Something else. Something… that wont attract so much attention."
The first Quidditch game of the season was about to begin. The Slytherin team stood in formation, two by two, inside one of the tunnels leading out to the pitch. The air buzzed with anticipation, the muffled roar of the crowd growing louder with each passing second.
Jakob glanced at Draco, who was standing stiffly beside him. The blond's grip on his broom was rigid, his knuckles pale as his gaze flickered toward the tunnel's opening.
"Don't worry, mate," Jakob said, his voice calm and measured. "You'll do fine. Just don't let Potter get into your head."
Draco sneered, though the tension in his posture betrayed him. "That idiot won't get to me… but he's good. And I've seen him fly. That broom of his—it's almost in the league of what I have."
Jakob smirked. "Careful, Draco. You almost sound like you admire him."
Draco shot him a sharp glare but didn't respond, his mouth twitching as if struggling to come up with a retort. Jakob chuckled softly, adjusting his grip on the bat slung over his shoulder.
"Relax," he said. "Potter's mine. I'll make sure he doesn't have a chance to get comfortable."
Marcus Flint stepped forward before Draco could say anything, his commanding voice cutting through the tension. "Alright, people, mount up. They'll call us out any second."
The team moved into position, mounting their brooms with practised ease.
Moments later, Lee Jordan's amplified voice echoed through the stadium, announcing the Slytherin team. The team kicked off as one. The roar of the Slytherin stands swelled, their voices filling the stadium with chants and cheers that echoed like thunder. Jakob leaned forward on his broom, the rush of the game and the deafening support surging through him like fire. For a moment, everything else faded. He felt unstoppable, alive in a way only Quidditch could make him feel.
Then Lee Jordan's voice broke through, cutting sharply over the cheers. Jakob's frown deepened as the words settled, his excitement flickering into irritation.
"And here we have the Slytherin team, who we hope can play a fair game this year for once. And there is their new Seeker—Malfoy has shown that money can buy everything."
Jakob's grip tightened on his broomstick. This was his first game, and he wasn't about to let some biased commentator tarnish it. Without hesitation, he angled his broom sharply and sped toward the commentator's box.
Hovering just outside the box, Jakob leaned in, his voice cool but edged with steel. "I would not be so quick to accuse the Malfoy heir when the lord of the house is sitting two rows behind you."
Lee Jordan froze mid-comment, glancing back instinctively. His eyes locked onto Lucius Malfoy, whose piercing glare radiated a silent promise of retribution. Swallowing hard, Lee turned back, hastily covering the mic.
"I'm not accusing anyone," he hissed, though his voice wavered slightly. "If you don't like how I commentate, take it up with Professor McGonagall after the match."
Jakob rolled his eyes and looked toward Lucius, giving him a subtle nod of inquiry. Lucius responded with the barest inclination of his head, a gesture so minimal that only someone as attentive as Jakob might have caught it. Jakob dipped his head in acknowledgement, offering a brief, deferential bow before turning back to Lee.
"Don't be an idiot," Jakob said quietly, his green eyes narrowing. "And don't belittle us again, or you might discover how easily you can be replaced."
With that, Jakob tilted his broom and glided away smoothly. As he rejoined the team, he couldn't help but hear Jordan's commentary shift. Jabs were still shot towards the Slytherin team, but the focus slowly moved to lavish praise towards the Gryffindors.
Both teams hovered in a circle as the crowd's roar filled the stadium. Jakob's sharp eyes caught the Weasley twins smirking at him from across the pitch, their expressions telling him that he was their new target.
He didn't flinch; instead, he returned their smirk with one of his own, silently challenging them.
Madam Hooch strode onto the field, her cat-like eyes scanning the players. She stopped before the open chest containing the balls, commanding everyone's attention.
"I want a nice, fair game from all of you," she said, her stern gaze passing over both teams.
With a swift kick, Madam Hooch released the bludgers and the golden snitch. The black balls shot out like cannonballs, zooming into the air, while the tiny snitch glimmered briefly before darting high into the sky. Draco and Harry tried to keep their eyes on it, but the elusive ball disappeared in seconds.
Madam Hooch picked up the quaffle, holding it in her hands for a moment, and gave one last piercing look at the students. Then, with a sharp toss, she flung it high into the air, signalling the start of the game.
Nott was the first to grab it, expertly weaving through the air as a Gryffindor chaser barreled toward her. She dodged nimbly, her blonde hair catching the sunlight as she passed the quaffle to Marcus. He took it and soared higher, working in perfect coordination with Nott to pass the ball back and forth at a speed that left the Gryffindors struggling to keep up.
Jakob, meanwhile, hovered near Bole, his fellow beater. They had already devised their strategy before the match: focus on Potter and keep the bludgers off the Gryffindor Beaters. But now, a new idea crossed Jakob's mind.
He grinned at Bole, pointing his bat toward the commentator's box. Bole returned the grin, immediately understanding, and flew off to locate a bludger.
Jakob hovered closer to the box, his eyes narrowing on Lee Jordan, who was in the middle of an overly enthusiastic commentary.
"First time I've seen that move," Lee said, leaning forward, focused on the Slytherin chasers. "Must probably be because of the new brooms they—"
Bole's bludger hurtled through the air with a resounding crack, and Jakob was ready. Timing his swing perfectly, he slammed the bludger with precision, sending it straight toward the commentator's box.
The bludger hurtled toward Lee Jordan, a black blur that he barely registered before it struck him square in the face.
The force snapped his head back, sending his glasses flying as blood spurted from his nose. He stumbled, his chair screeching against the wooden floor, before crumpling in an unconscious heap.
The microphone fell with him, emitting a piercing burst of static that echoed through the stadium. A moment of stunned silence followed before chaos erupted in the stands. Gasps, shouts, and furious cries from the Gryffindor section rose like a wave. On the other hand, the Slytherin crowd howled with laughter and jeers, their cheers mixing with the growing pandemonium.
Jakob hovered near the centre of the pitch, his bat still in hand, and watched the unfolding scene with a growing smirk. He spun his bat casually as a whistle blew to pause the game.
He turned his broom toward Madam Hooch, who was signalling for him to land where the team captains were already gathered.
"What in the bloody hell did you attack the commentator for?" Oliver Wood barked, his face red with anger as Jakob descended smoothly.
Standing with his arms crossed, Flint cut in before Jakob could reply. "His hand slipped, right, Quade?" He gave Jakob a pointed look, daring him to contradict him.
Jakob shrugged nonchalantly. "Might have. My question, though, is why it was allowed to have a commentator so obviously biased to one team up there. You heard the accusations—"
"That is not a reason to send Mr. Jordan to the infirmary, Mr. Quade!" Madam Hooch snapped, her golden eyes flashing with irritation. "If you had a problem, you should have brought it to me."
Jakob raised an eyebrow, his tone calm but cutting. "This isn't the first time Mr. Jordan has done this. Are you saying you've been okay with his behavior in previous games because no one talked to you about it?"
Hooch opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, the words faltering on her lips. Wood scowled, his frustration bubbling over, while Flint stood beside Jakob with a faint smirk, clearly enjoying the standoff.
Madam Hooch's gaze darted between the captains. Wood's expression practically screamed for revenge, while Flint's was more calculated, daring her to punish Jakob under these circumstances. Her jaw tightened as she made her decision.
"Mr Quade," she said firmly, "Normally, this behaviour would disqualify you from the match. However, seeing as this is your first game and given the... situation, you will sit out for the next ten minutes before being allowed to rejoin. Additionally, Gryffindor will start with possession of the quaffle." She nodded curtly, signalling that her judgment was final.
Jakob inclined his head slightly, his expression neutral, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his satisfaction. As he walked away, he caught Flint's approving smirk. Wood's curses were barely audible over the renewed cheers from the Slytherin stands. Ten minutes was a minor inconvenience.
The game pressed on, and Jakob sat in one of the spectator boxes, his bat resting across his knees. His sharp eyes wandered over the pitch to Lucius in the Slytherin stands. Lord Malfoy's expression was as unreadable as ever. Still, a faint twitch of his lips gave Jakob all the confirmation he needed—his actions hadn't gone unnoticed nor unappreciated.
The Gryffindor team, emboldened by their temporary advantage, threw themselves into the match with vigour. Their chasers worked relentlessly, weaving through the air in coordinated plays, and they managed to score. But the Slytherin team, undeterred by the absence of a beater, quickly regained control. Their chasers exploited every gap, outpacing the Gryffindor's older brooms and scoring twice in rapid succession.
Jakob couldn't help but smirk as he watched. Flint's strategy was working. Even with one beater down, Slytherin's strength in speed and teamwork was proving too much for Gryffindor to handle.
The sharp blast of Madam Hooch's whistle snapped him out of his thoughts. She signalled for him to rejoin the game. Jakob stood as he mounted his broom. With a firm kick-off, he soared into the air.
Jakob gave Bole a curt nod, signalling him to execute their plan. Without hesitation, the two Slytherin beaters split, each chasing down one of the bludgers. Their speed and coordination were unmatched by the Weasley twins, who were also angling for the violent balls.
Jakob spotted Harry closing in on Marcus, who had possession of the quaffle. Tightening his grip on his bat, Jakob swung hard, sending the bludger hurtling through the air toward Harry.
Just as the Gryffindor Seeker was about to collide with it, one of the Weasley twins darted in front of him, deflecting the bludger with a precise hit and smirking back at Jakob, clearly proud of the save.
Jakob's eyes narrowed. He glanced over at Bole and gave him another nod. The other Slytherin beater immediately hurled his bludger in a seemingly wild arc, aiming ten meters away from one of the twins.
The twin laughed, assuming Bole had simply miscalculated. "Nice try, snake," he shouted, amused by the apparent lack of skill.
But Jakob had anticipated this. He was already in position, flying parallel to the twin, ten meters to his right. Timing his approach perfectly, Jakob intercepted the bludger mid-air and swung his bat with precision.
The bludger shot toward the laughing twin like a missile. His brother's warning shout came too late. As the twin turned, the bludger struck him squarely, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him tumbling from his broom.
Jakob nodded in satisfaction as he watched the redhead hit the ground. One down, one to go, he thought. The moment of triumph was fleeting as he assessed the changing game dynamics.
The visibly shaken but determined Gryffindor team adapted quickly to their new disadvantage. They pulled the remaining Weasley twin into a defensive position behind their chasers, creating a protective barrier of eyes. The added vigilance made it nearly impossible for Jakob or Bole to land a clean hit on him.
Jakob hovered high above the pitch, his eyes scanning the Gryffindor formation for any weaknesses. He made several attempts to break through their defences, angling for a clear shot, but each effort was cut short by the twin's sharp reactions and the coordinated support of his teammates. Gryffindor's strategy was holding firm, though it was clear it came at a price.
Below, Bole pressed his attack relentlessly, hammering the remaining Weasley twin with bludger after bludger. The constant assault forced the Gryffindor Beater into a purely defensive role, leaving him unable to protect his team effectively. This opened the field for Slytherin's chasers, who tore through the game with little resistance, racking up points as the crowd roared their approval.
With Gryffindor's focus split, the Slytherin chasers seized the opportunity. Nott, Flint, and Pucey darted fluidly through the air, weaving around their opponents and passing the quaffle faster than the Gryffindor chasers could react.
Their teamwork and speed outmatched the scrambling Gryffindor defence, and the scoreboard reflected it—Slytherin surged ahead, 60 to 10.
Jakob shot a sharp look toward Draco, who was still caught up in celebrating with the chasers. He's completely distracted, Jakob thought with growing frustration. If Potter gets the snitch, none of this will matter.
Sweeping his gaze across the pitch, Jakob quickly spotted Harry cutting through the air at a dangerous speed. His heart sank as the telltale golden blur appeared just ahead of the Gryffindor Seeker.
"Shit," Jakob hissed, immediately veering toward Harry.
He spotted a nearby bludger and moved swiftly, swinging his bat with force to send it hurtling toward Harry. The bludger screamed through the air, closing in on the Gryffindor Seeker, but Harry's speed was too great. With a smooth dodge, Potter avoided it entirely, leaving the bludger to fly harmlessly into the distance.
"Draco!" Jakob yelled, his voice cutting through the cheers and jeers of the crowd.
Draco turned sharply, his grin from celebrating another goal fading as he registered the urgency in Jakob's call. He quickly took in the scene—Harry closing in on the snitch, Jakob making frantic attempts to stop him—and the realization hit.
Without a word, Draco angled his broom and surged forward, pushing it to its absolute limit.
Meanwhile, Jakob tracked Harry's every move, calculating the Gryffindor Seeker's trajectory. The snitch danced ahead of Potter's outstretched hand, and Jakob knew he had only seconds to act. Adjusting his flight path, he angled his broom sharply, heading for an interception.
The Hufflepuff stands loomed closer with every second, and the crowd began to scatter, sensing Jakob's unrelenting course. He didn't waver, his attention locked on the golden blur and Harry's determined figure.
As the snitch hovered within inches of Harry's grasp, Jakob made his move, bracing his body for impact. His shoulder came up as he closed his eyes, committing fully to the collision.
Harry, entirely fixated on the snitch, didn't see him coming.
The force of Jakob's hit was devastating. The Slytherin Beater slammed into Harry with enough speed and power to knock both boys clean off their brooms. Their bodies tumbled through the air, colliding with the platform below in a chaotic blur of limbs.
The crowd gasped as the roar of the game fell silent. Both teams stopped, their attention drawn to the platform below.
Jakob hit the wooden surface hard. Pain flared through his chest and shoulders as he rolled to a stop. He tried to catch his breath, but it felt like the air had been knocked out of him. His head spun, and the world blurred into a swirl of shapes and muted colours.
Everything felt still. The ache in his body grew heavier as he lay there, unable to move. Slowly, the familiar tingle of magical healing began to spread. The sharpness of the pain dulled slightly, enough for him to force himself onto his back.
He closed his eyes briefly, his breathing uneven as the aches started to ease.
After a second or two, he opened them again and blinked rapidly, clearing his vision as the dizziness faded.
He sat up, his hand pressing against his ribs to steady himself. The stunned faces of the crowd came into focus, their silence louder than any cheer.
Jakob's eyes landed on Harry Potter, who lay completely still a short distance away. It hit him then—Gryffindor had just lost their Seeker for the rest of the game.
The Slytherins broke the silence with an eruption of cheers, their voices filling the air with wild celebration as they witnessed Jakob pushing himself to his feet.
He swayed momentarily, steadying himself on the shoulder of a Hufflepuff who stiffened at his touch. He spotted his broom a few steps away, retrieved it, and mounted without hesitation.
He pushed off the platform as the game resumed, though the movements of both teams were hesitant and slow.
But before the game could fully restart, a sharp whistle pierced the tension. Jakob turned to see Madam Hooch flying toward him with a furious look on her face.
Below, teachers hurried to the platform where Harry lay, with a few Hufflepuffs still gathered around, trying to help. Madam Pomfrey knelt beside him, her wand already moving.
"Mr. Quade," Madam Hooch said strictly, "this is the second time today you've attacked a student in a way that has no place in Quidditch. This time, it was an opposing player, and in a manner I never want to see again."
"You are disqualified for the rest of this match," she continued. "And let me make this clear—this is your final warning. If it happens again, there will be no second chances."
Jakob nodded briefly before he turned to fly toward the penalty box. He caught Marcus smirking before the captain tried to reason with Madam Hooch, though it was clear even he knew there was no defence for what Jakob had done.
The match resumed, and the outcome became inevitable with Gryffindor's Seeker and beater gone. The Slytherin chasers dominated the field; their speed, coordination and numbers were too much for Gryffindor to handle. Every attempt to regain control was met with ruthless efficiency, the points piling up dramatically for the green and silver.
Draco snatched the snitch an hour later, sealing the match at 260 to 30.
Jakob mounted his broom from the penalty box and descended to join his teammates as the whistle sounded, ending the game.
The Slytherin players celebrated together, circling the pitch as the stands exploded into cheers.
The chant "Slytherin! Slytherin! Slytherin!" echoed across the stadium.
When they returned to the changing room, the team moved slowly, their exhaustion visible in every motion.
Jakob sat on the bench, working on his left shoulder pad straps, when he noticed Marcus walking toward him. The rest of the team stood nearby, their attention fixed on them.
"In all my years, I've never seen anyone willingly do what you did out there," Marcus said.
Jakob shrugged, finally pulling the pad loose. "Potter broke the fall."
The team chuckled, but Marcus didn't. He studied Jakob briefly, then grabbed his arm and raised it.
"This move will now and forever be called the Horns of Quade," Marcus said, his voice loud enough to echo through the room. "And this is the star of the game. Tonight, we celebrate him for our victory!"
The team erupted into cheers, clapping and shouting Jakob's name. But the second-year beater didn't smile. Instead, he turned to Marcus.
"So, Nott's on the team, then?" he asked.
Marcus glanced at the girl standing to the side, trying to act like she wasn't listening.
He turned back to Jakob. "She did well, but let's be honest—it was you who won us the game."
Jakob crossed his arms. "She made most of the chasers' points, and this was her first match."
Marcus paused, looking at Nott again before nodding.
"Hey, Nott!" he called out.
The girl glanced up, uncertainty flickering across her face.
"You proved yourself today," Marcus said. "You're a starting chaser now. Don't waste the opportunity."
Her attempt to hide her smile failed as she nodded. "I'll make sure Slytherin wins every game, captain!"
Marcus gave a small nod. "See that you do."
While the rest of the team hurried out of the changing room, eager to join the celebrations. Jakob stayed behind, wanting a moment to himself. He took his time in the shower, letting the warmth ease his muscles, then dressed slowly before grabbing his broom and stepping outside.
As he exited into the crisp evening air, he noticed Clara standing nearby, just outside the warm glow of a lamppost. Her broom rested lightly against her shoulder as she waited quietly, her eyes meeting his when he approached.
"I'd like to walk with you back to the castle if that's alright, heir Quade," she said. Her voice was calm, though he could tell she had practised the words in her head before speaking.
Jakob gave a small shrug, and they set off together. Their matching brooms rested lightly in their hands as they walked side by side.
The night was quiet except for the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. The chill in the air bit at their skin, and Jakob exhaled slowly, watching his breath form a faint mist before it dissolved into the darkness.
"I wanted to thank you for all of this," Clara said softly as they neared the path leading to the main gate.
Jakob kept his eyes on the dark outline of the castle ahead. Clara's words lingered in his mind, but he stayed quiet, focusing instead on the soft crunch of their footsteps breaking the stillness of the night.
"You don't have to thank me, Miss Nott," he finally said. "I made the decision because it was what Slytherin needed. If you hadn't proven yourself, you wouldn't have made the team."
Clara nodded, and the quiet returned as they continued walking. Jakob glanced sideways and noticed her lips twitching as if she were carefully crafting her next words.
A faint smile appeared on his face. "Your father came to watch the match today, didn't he?"
Clara looked up at him and nodded. "He did. After the game, he told Theo that he was proud of me. He also said I'd be getting a new broom so I could return this one to you." She glanced at the broom in her hands. "He wasn't planning on buying a Nimbus, but anything's an upgrade from the school's standard ones."
Jakob's eyes flicked to the broom she carried, then back to her.
"Keep it," he said. "Consider it a gift. If you ever doubt yourself or your abilities, I want you to look at that broom and remember today."
Clara stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide as she looked at him. "But heir Quade, this broom… I—"
Jakob interrupted with a smirk. "I already have a new one. I wasn't planning on taking it back."
Clara's lips curved into a smile as she looked down at the broom, then back at him. She nodded and continued walking, the silence between them now feeling lighter.
As they reached the castle doors, Clara came to a halt. She looked at Jakob, hesitating for a moment before speaking.
"Before we go in, I want to tell you something." She began, her eyes holding a mix of hope and something else he couldn't quite identify. "You're not like the others in our house. You've helped me more than I can explain. If you ever need anything, you'll always have an ally in the house of Nott."
Jakob studied her for a moment before giving a small nod. A faint smile curved his lips as he replied, "I appreciate the gesture, Miss Nott."
"Don't let me interrupt, but everyone's waiting for you two."
Jakob and Clara turned sharply toward the voice. The castle gate creaked open, and Amy stepped through, her dark curls catching the faint light. She stood a few meters away, her gaze fixed on them with a calmness that felt anything but friendly.
"Miss Nott, am I correct?" Amy asked, closing the distance between them, her eyes scanning Clara with an unsettling intensity.
Clara hesitated, gripping her broom tighter as if it might shield her from the weight of Amy's gaze. She nodded, glancing briefly at Jakob before lowering her eyes back to the ground.
"Heir Quade is remarkable, isn't he?" Amy said, her focus turning to Jakob, though her words seemed meant for Clara. "It's clear why the Slytherin Five chose him."
Clara shifted uneasily, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, my queen," she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Amy tilted her head, her eyes drifting to the broom in Clara's hand. "Some might get the privilege of his prized possessions," she said, her voice smooth but edged with a subtle challenge. "But that doesn't mean they are privileged to be in his prese—"
"I hope you have a nice time at the party," Jakob interrupted, his tone light but firm, giving Clara a polite nod and gesturing toward the castle doors.
Clara caught the hint without hesitation. She nodded quickly and walked past Amy, her focus fixed on the ground as she entered the castle.
Amy's eyes followed her, a flicker of disgust crossing her face as the doors closed behind the blonde.
"My Queen, would you care to join me for a stroll? There's a matter I'd like to discuss with you, away from curious ears," Jakob said, stepping forward in an effort to shift her focus.
Amy's gaze shifted from the castle doors, a small smile forming on her lips.
"But it's so cold, and I have no coat to keep me warm," she said, slipping her arm through his effortlessly.
Jakob placed his broom against the wall and drew his wand. With a flick, a soft warmth enveloped them both. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing down a quieter path along the castle wall.
Amy nodded, and they began walking together, their steps muffled by the frost-covered ground.
As they walked, Amy let out a soft giggle.
Jakob turned his head, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "What's so amusing?"
"Nothing," she replied, her grin widening as she waved him off.
Jakob gave her a knowing nudge, his curiosity piqued. "Come on, my queen," he teased.
Amy sighed, her voice quieter now. "It's just… I've watched the memory from the gift you gave me so many nights before bed," she said, glancing up at him. "And here we are again. Just you and me, walking together. And, once again, you're casting a warming charm to keep me warm."
Jakob smirked, pulling her a little closer. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, her smile deepening as she accepted the gesture.
"I enjoyed that moment too," he said. "We're quite similar, you and I."
Amy tilted her head slightly. "How so, heir Quade?" She asked with a flirtatious tone.
Jakob's eyes glinted as he leaned closer, his smile turning mischievous. "I also have a gift I look at before I sleep," he said, giving her a wink.
Amy halted, her gaze locking onto him. Jakob wondered why she was staring at him like that until he caught the unmistakable hunger in her eyes. Before he could react, she pushed him against the cold castle wall. He barely had time to process what was happening before her lips crashed against his.
Jakob kissed her back and was about to embrace her, but he regained his senses and broke the kiss. He looked around quickly.
"Shit. Amy. What if someone saw us right now."
Amy glanced around and then shrugged. "I don't see anyone. And I've been dying to feel you again."
Before Jakob could respond, she kissed him again. This time, he lost control. He turned them around, lifting her up against the wall. She locked her legs around him while his hands slid under her skirt. Amy's fingers grasped at his hair, holding him closer.
"You make me go fucking crazy, Amy," Jakob said as they broke apart for a breath.
"You're not so bad yourself."
As evening turned to night. The torches around the castle lit up, casting the two teens and where they stood into shadows.
They started kissing again. Amy's hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it with quick success. She caressed his chest with one hand while the other pressed his face toward her lips.
Then, suddenly, they both froze as voices broke through the silence. Jakob turned his head and saw Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick walking together, having a heated conversation.
"I'm telling you, Minnie, I absolutely remember winning that duel! How could you doubt me?" Flitwick said, his voice high-pitched with frustration.
"Because, you babbling baboon, that duel never happened!" McGonagall snapped. "You weren't even born when he was a dueling champion!"
Jakob and Amy stood frozen in the shadows, their heads turning slightly as their eyes followed the two professors. Neither dared to breathe too loudly as they watched the heated exchange.
Jakob felt the strain building in his arms and adjusted his grip, his hands sliding slightly higher to rest under the soft curves of her thighs. Amy's eyes flicked down at the shift, a playful glint appearing as she felt his touch change. She said nothing but started to trail her fingers teasingly across his chest, ignoring the two professors only a few steps away.
Their eyes met, and without a word, Jakob leaned in, pressing his lips softly against hers. Amy responded immediately, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.
Both stayed silent, aware of the professors' voices still nearby, but the risk only made the moment feel more intense.
Lost in their shared moment, they barely remembered the two professors were still nearby, making their way toward the gate.
The sharp crack of apparition jolted them both as the teachers disappeared. Their heads snapped toward the sound instinctively, breaking the spell of their closeness.
They froze, wide-eyed for a second, before turning to look at each other. A moment passed, and then they burst into laughter.
Jakob kissed her once more before gently lowering Amy to the ground, his hands savouring the sensation of her skin just a second longer before stepping back.
They exchanged amused looks, their laughter softening as the adrenaline slowly faded.
When they had calmed down, Jakob straightened and offered his arm. Amy took it with a grin, slipping her hand around his. Together, they began walking toward the castle gate.
"Amy, can I ask you something?" Jakob said, breaking the silence and giving her a glance.
The older girl held his arm with both hands. She didn't respond, her focus seeming elsewhere.
"Has the Nott girl done something to insult you?"
Amy frowned and tilted her head up at him, her expression almost amused. "No. Why would you think that? I barely knew she existed before today," she said, her chuckle carrying a faintly dismissive edge.
"Then why did you talk to her like that before?" Jakob asked, his tone more direct.
"Like what, Jakob?" Amy replied, her eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity, though there was a flicker of something else as well.
Jakob hesitated momentarily, her reaction making him feel an odd discomfort he couldn't quite place.
"I don't know… cold?" he said, shrugging as he tried to sound casual.
Amy raised her eyebrows and gave a small, knowing smile. "Maybe I leaned into the Queen persona a little too much," she admitted, her voice light at first before shifting, tinged with a sharpness that she didn't bother to mask. "But why do you ask? Do you find her pretty? Marcus mentioned you fought to get her on the team—and even gifted her your broom."
The tone in her voice at the end made Jakob pause. He let out a quiet sigh and turned his gaze forward before replying.
"I fought to get her on the team because Marcus wasn't seeing reason. He wanted to pick a boy who wasn't nearly as skilled, just because of her gender," he said firmly. "And I gave her my broom because she would've been the only one stuck with a school broom. If that had happened, the Gryffindors would've singled her out, and we'd have lost our best chaser within minutes."
"All good reasons that I accept," said Amy.
Accept? Jakob thought, confused by the unexpected choice of words.
"But you didn't answer my first question," Amy added, her tone softer but insistent. "Do you find the Nott girl pretty?"
Jakob stopped in his tracks and looked at her neutrally. Amy met his gaze, her eyes slightly narrowing as if she were trying to read the answer in his expression before he even spoke.
"I don't find her appalling," Jakob said with a steady voice. "But it's hard to think about any girl as pretty when I have a Queen by my side who makes me feel things I've never felt before, just by smiling at me."
Amy's lips curved into a warm smile, and she glanced around quickly. Jakob caught the way her curly black hair shifted gently with the motion.
Before he could say more, she leaned in and quickly kissed his lips.
Amy stepped back without a word and motioned toward the castle. Jakob followed her lead, falling into step as they walked inside together.
They broke apart as they entered, walking side by side. Amy let her hands fall to her sides, brushing over her robes as they descended the stairs.
"You have a way with words, heir Quade," she said, glancing at him briefly as her fingers brushed the stone railing. "I find it hard to resist."
Jakob looked ahead, his hands settling into his pockets as they walked. "It wasn't my intention, my queen," he said, glancing at her sideways, "but I'm glad it does."
Amy let out a faint hum of acknowledgement. She reached up to adjust one of her curls, and as they reached the bottom of the stairs, she paused for a moment, looking ahead.
"I trust you, heir Quade," she said as they continued walking. "But you're still young. There are snakes in the dungeon who will try to sink their fangs into you. And as your queen, it's my duty to protect you from their venom."
Jakob glanced at her as they walked. He shifted the strap of his broom on his shoulder, his brow furrowing slightly. The way she spoke unsettled him, though he couldn't place exactly why.
"Snakes protect their own, don't they?" he asked with an even tone.
Amy turned her head toward him as they walked, her lips curving into a smile. "Most do," she replied, her steps never faltering. "But some disguises themself as friendly and then, when you least expect it they would strike."
Jakob stayed quiet, gripping the broom tighter as they approached the entrance to the common room. The wall slid open, revealing a scene of celebration inside.
The common room was alive with excitement. Students cheered, drinks were raised high, and the room carried an energy that would have made Jakob smile widely, but he didn't.
Amy stepped forward but stopped at the threshold. She turned to him, the smile on her face softening. "Enjoy this evening, heir Quade. This night is yours."
Without waiting for a response, she walked inside.
Jakob stayed where he was, watching her disappear into the crowd. She was the girl he admired, the one he cared for deeply. But as he stood there, for the first time, he felt something else.
Fear—not for himself, but for the ones he cared about.
The party was legendary.
Laughter, cheers, and music filled the Slytherin common room. Goblets clinked together as the faint hum of charmed instruments competed with the bursts of applause and roaring laughter.
Jakob stood near the centre of it all, surrounded by his team and housemates. He downed another shot of fire whiskey that Marcus had shoved into his hand moments earlier, feeling the burn as it hit his throat.
"Bloody hell, that burns!" Jakob yelled, coughing as Marcus and Pucey laughed before finishing their own shots.
"That's why they call it fire whiskey, you twat," Marcus shouted, his words slurred as he gave Jakob a hearty slap on the back, laughing so hard he nearly spilt his own drink.
"Speech!" someone called out from the crowd, and soon, the chant grew louder as more voices joined in.
Jakob, already caught up in the excitement, chanted along twice before Draco pulled him back with a laugh. "They mean you, you idiot!"
Grinning like a fool, Jakob steadied himself and climbed onto the table before the couches. The wood shifted slightly under his weight. He barely noticed His foot accidentally sending a goblet of butterbeer flying, the liquid spilling across the floor as he turned to face the crowd.
Straightening himself, Jakob raised his arms to call for silence, only to be handed a goblet filled with an unfamiliar drink.
"I wanted silence, but I guess this will do too," he said, taking a sip. His face twisted into a grimace at the bitter taste, earning more laughter and cheers from the crowd. Waving his free hand, he finally managed to quiet them down.
"Slytherin!" Jakob roared, his voice echoing through the common room, and the crowd erupted into cheers.
"Never in my life have I done something that stupid—and it was wonderful!" he declared, raising his hands with a wide grin. The laughter and cheers rippled through the room. Some clapped, others raised their goblets.
Jakob raised his drink, his grin softening slightly. "I won't take all the glory for today's game. Everyone on my team played their part, and we won this match together." He paused, scanning the room. "I want to raise my cup to Malfoy and Nott for making a great first game."
A wave of clapping followed, and about a third of the crowd lifted their cups in acknowledgement.
"But," Jakob said, his tone suddenly serious as he let out a dramatic sigh and shook his head. The room quieted.
"I stand with a problem," he said, pausing as he glanced at the crowd.
"I don't know if I'll be able to play against Gryffindor again," he continued, letting the tension build before a smirk broke through. "Because if ramming that idiot Potter gets me disqualified, then the world will soon chant the Horns of Quade!"
The crowd roared, their cheers quickly turning into chants of "The Horns of Quade! The Horns of Quade!"
The music, which had been muted for his speech, resumed as the charmed instruments in the corner struck up a lively tune. Jakob gave a theatrical bow, earning another round of cheers.
He spotted Crabbe stepping forward and took the offered hand, allowing himself to be helped down from the table.
The slightly tipsy Jakob approached his friends, who had gathered in a circle near the right corner of the room. They sat comfortably on a mix of pillows, a cluster of goblets and bottles placed in the centre like a makeshift table.
He dropped onto a cushion between Pansy and Blaise, stretching his legs as he settled in.
"Great speech, Jake," Pansy said, her tone lighter than usual. "Did you know you'd be dragged into giving one?"
"Not a clue," Jakob replied with a grin. "But firewhiskey does wonders for inspiration."
Blaise laughed, holding up his hand for a high-five. Jakob smacked it, chuckling as he leaned back on his elbows.
Across from him, Draco sat flanked by Theo and Daphne. Draco and Theo were leaned in close, talking quietly about something. Jakob's curiosity flickered, but it didn't last long.
"You were wonderful today, Jakob. I really enjoyed your play," Daphne said, pulling his attention back.
Jakob smiled back at Daphne, forcing himself not to glance over his shoulder to check if Amy was watching.
"Mate, can we talk in private?" Theo's voice broke through his thoughts. Jakob turned to find him standing behind him, his expression unusually serious.
Jakob hesitated for a moment, then stood and followed Theo toward the dorm corridors. The noise of the party faded behind them, replaced by the soft hum of distant voices and footsteps. The quieter atmosphere felt oddly heavy after the energy of the common room.
Theo stopped near the entrance to the dorms. His hands fidgeted at his sides as if trying to find the right words. Jakob tilted his head slightly and let his gaze rest on his friend, waiting for an answer.
"What's on your mind, mate?" Jakob asked, trying his best to keep his tone calm and steady.
Theo didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his robes and pulled out a medium-sized package. The box was wrapped in black paper, almost the size of a wand case but slightly broader.
He handed it to Jakob without a word. As Jakob began to unwrap it, Theo's hand shot out to stop him. His eyes shifted toward the corridor.
"Don't open it here."
Jakob raised an eyebrow, a curious chuckle escaping him. "Why?"
"It's from my father as thanks. He was surprised when Clara wrote to him about what you had done for her. He wanted to give you a gift for the aid and opportunity you provided to a member of House Nott."
Jakob smiled faintly, holding the package with care.
"Theo, I helped her before I even knew her last name. I don't need a reward for letting someone show their worth," he said, giving his friend an appreciative nod. "But I am grateful, and I accept this gift."
Theo nodded as his features eased, the tension in his posture less noticeable now.
"My sister has always wanted to go pro," he continued. "But when she was sorted into Slytherin, both she and my father knew it would probably never happen. You gave her something, Jake. And I don't think you realize how much it means to her."
Jakob gave a slight nod, feeling the weight of Theo's words settle in his chest.
"And to me," Theo added. His voice wavered slightly. "You've shown everyone in our house that there's a chance to become what they truly want."
Theo hesitated, his gaze dropping as his mouth trembled ever so slightly. After noticing the emotion, Jakob placed a firm hand on Theo's shoulder, waiting until his friend looked back at him.
"Theo, you might have stolen my best friend from me," Jakob said with a small grin, "but Draco's best friends are my best friends too. If you ever need my aid, don't hesitate to ask. I might succeed, or I might fail, but if I see you deserve it, I'll fight for it. Alright?"
Jakob slipped the package into his robes and threw an arm over Theo's shoulder.
"Come on, mate. The party won't wait for us," Jakob finished with a grin.
As they stepped back into the common room, the energy of the celebration hit them again. The music was louder, laughter echoed off the walls, and the glow from the floating lanterns seemed brighter now after their quiet moment in the dorm corridor.
Jakob noticed Draco glance over at Theo. There was a brief exchange of a nod and a smile between them that didn't go unnoticed. Jakob felt a flicker of curiosity as he recalled their earlier whispers.
The party continued until the first light of dawn began creeping through the castle's high windows. Jakob enjoyed every moment, soaking in his housemates' laughter, music, and camaraderie.
At one point, as he made his way to grab another butterbeer, he passed by Amy. Their eyes met, and she stopped briefly to speak with him. Her tone carried the same confident playfulness he was used to, her words lingering just enough to make an impression before some of her friends called her back to where she had been seated. She smiled faintly and returned to her group, leaving Jakob watching her momentarily before shaking it off and heading back to the party.
When the festivities finally came to an end, Jakob and Pansy made their way to the dorms together, the energy of the night replaced by heavy exhaustion.
He was grateful it was Saturday, knowing they had the luxury of sleeping in.
Pansy curled up beside him without a word, her head resting on his shoulder as they both settled in. Neither of them managed to say anything, the night's happenings pulling them to sleep almost immediately.
The next morning, Jakob woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed. He stayed still for a moment, staring up at the ceiling before deciding to get up. Careful not to wake Pansy, still curled up beside him, he quietly slid out of bed and began gathering his things.
It wasn't a school day, so he pulled a fresh set of his private clothes from the wardrobe, straightening them carefully as he dressed. Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted his shirt, frowning slightly as he made it sit just right.
As he moved to grab his robes from the floor, something caught his eye. A box stuck out slightly from the fabric. He stared at it for a moment before realizing what it was.
The gift from Theo.
Jakob bent down and picked it up, the black wrapping still intact. Sitting down on the edge of his bed, he carefully unwrapped it, revealing a smooth black silk box underneath. Lifting the lid slowly, he took in the contents.
Inside was a dagger.
He frowned as he picked it up, holding it to the light. The blade and hilt were a deep, blood-red colour that gleamed faintly. Turning it over, he noticed the carvings—tiny runes and symbols intricately etched into every surface. The patterns wove together, forming larger symbols he couldn't quite understand.
"What the hell is this?" Jakob muttered in awe to himself.
He searched the box, looking for a note or any kind of explanation, but there was nothing. The silk lining beneath the dagger offered no clues.
He sighed, turning the weapon in his hands once more before placing it back in the box. He already had enough on his mind, and this only added to the list of mysteries he needed to solve.
As Jakob picked up the lid, something caught his attention. On the inside roof of the box, a single word was etched in faint silver lettering: Celare.
"Celare?" he said quietly, his brows drawing together as he spoke the word aloud.
The dagger began to shift in his hands. Jakob watched as the edges softened, the blade stretched, and the blood-red hue melted into a deep crimson. Before his eyes, the weapon transformed into a sleek, luxurious quill.
He held it up, turning it over in his hand. "That's… something," he muttered, testing the weight of it. It felt like any ordinary quill at first, but the craftsmanship was far too refined to be typical.
He glanced at his desk, where his old, worn quill sat. Without hesitation, Jakob grabbed his bag, swapped out the old quill for this new one, and closed the flap.
Satisfied, he stood and headed for the door, leaving the quiet room behind with one sleeping girl and one sleeping snake.
Jakob walked through the quiet halls toward the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He stopped in front of the door and knocked firmly.
After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing a tired but still neatly groomed Gilderoy Lockhart. His golden curls looked as if they had just been brushed, but his eyes carried the unmistakable weight of an early morning.
"Ah, Mr. Quade," Lockhart said, yawning behind his hand. "What brings you here at this hour?"
Jakob gave his most charming smile, tilting his head slightly as if apologetic.
"I'm sorry for disturbing you this early, professor," the Slytherin began. "I was reading your book Magical Me last night and had some questions. I thought I might ask the man himself."
At those words, Lockhart's sleepy expression shifted to one of delight. The yawn faded completely as he straightened his posture.
Lockhart bustled around the room, retrieving a teapot and cups with the kind of exaggerated flair only he could manage. He placed them on the small table in front of Jakob and poured with a practised hand, the aroma of tea filling the room.
"Now then, my boy," Lockhart said as he settled into the chair across from Jakob, his bright smile firmly in place. "What can I do for an admirer so eager to learn from my experiences? Tell me, what burning questions do you have for old Gilderoy?"
Jakob picked up his cup, hiding his amusement behind a polite sip. "Well, professor, I was fascinated by the details of your adventures. Especially the ones involving advanced spellwork. I wanted to ask about some of the spells you used in those more… challenging situations."
Lockhart's chest puffed out as he leaned back, clearly pleased by the question. "Ah, yes! Advanced spellwork indeed. Many of my peers struggled with such things, but for me, it's second nature. Why, I remember when I faced that particularly vicious banshee—terrifying creature!—and managed to subdue her with nothing more than a clever flick of the wrist and a well-timed charm. Truly remarkable work on my part."
Jakob nodded, his expression one of rapt attention, though inside, he could already feel the toll of the professor's grandiose stories. "Fascinating, professor. Could you elaborate on the specific charm you used in that encounter?"
Lockhart paused for a moment, then smiled broadly. "Ah, well, of course, my boy! It was a modified version of a silencing charm, adapted for dealing with entities of a… shall we say, spectral nature. It's quite advanced, really, but once you have my level of expertise, it becomes second nature!"
Jakob kept the conversation flowing, carefully steering Lockhart toward tales involving advanced magic. For the next hour, he listened, nodding and asking questions at just the right moments to keep the professor enthralled by his own voice.
Jakob sat through what felt like an endless stream of Lockhart's stories, each one more outlandish than the last. The professor waved his hands dramatically, punctuating his tales with gestures that nearly toppled his teacup on more than one occasion.
"And there I was," Lockhart said, leaning forward, his eyes wide with manufactured intensity. "Surrounded by a horde of vampires. Fangs glinting, eyes glowing, ready to pounce! But of course, I kept my composure. With a simple Luminara Maxima and a touch of my unparalleled charm, I turned the tables on them. They scattered like bats at dawn!"
Jakob took the final sip of his tea and set the cup down gently, feigning awe. "Truly inspiring, professor. I can only hope to live up to even a fraction of your legacy."
Lockhart beamed, clearly basking in the praise. "You've got the right attitude, my boy. Determination, a bit of flair, and—if I may say so—a touch of my mentorship will take you far."
Jakob smiled but then allowed his expression to shift into a thoughtful frown.
Lockhart immediately noticed. "What's on your mind, Mr. Quade?" he asked, tilting his head with concern.
Jakob hesitated for effect, rubbing his chin lightly as if weighing his words. "Well, professor… it's just… there are so many books in the library. And to become as great and powerful as you, I imagine I'd need to find something not readily available to everyone. Something… special."
Lockhart straightened, his smile returning. "Ah, yes! A young mind hungry for knowledge—admirable, truly admirable. It's not every day I meet someone with such ambition."
Jakob allowed himself a small, shy smile. "Ever since I read about your adventures, I've wished for the chance to start my own. Though I admit, it's probably silly."
Lockhart leaned forward, intrigued. "Silly? Nonsense! What could be silly about following in my footsteps? Tell me, my boy, what's on your mind?"
Jakob let the hook linger for a moment before speaking. "It's just… when I imagine doing something heroic, I always think about leaving a mark behind. Something like carving GLF, so everyone knows who did it."
Lockhart frowned slightly, confused. "GLF? What does that mean?"
Jakob glanced down, feigning bashfulness. "Gilderoy Lockhart's Fan."
When Jakob looked up again, Lockhart's expression had changed entirely. The professor's face lit up with a dreamy smile as he clearly began picturing his name etched in glory across the wizarding world.
Sensing the perfect moment, the Slytherin gently cleared his throat. "Professor, um… are you sure?"
Lockhart blinked, snapping out of his reverie. "Sure? Of what, my boy?"
"I asked if I might have a permit for the Restricted Section, and you said yes," Jakob explained, his voice filled with mock excitement. "I can't believe my hero is not only brave but also so kind."
Lockhart blinked a few times, visibly torn between conflicting thoughts. His hesitation was clear, but Jakob kept his expression bright and hopeful, waiting patiently for the professor's response.
"Well, yes, of course," Lockhart said, his voice carrying a mix of hesitation and pride. "How could I possibly deny a request from such a devoted admirer?"
Jakob's face lit up, and he leaned forward slightly. "Thank you, Professor Lockhart! I promise to keep this just between us. I'd never want to trouble you or draw unnecessary attention."
The professor nodded, still distracted by the idea of his name being immortalized. "Yes, yes, quite right. Discretion is key, of course." He patted his pockets, frowning. "But, ah, I don't seem to have a permit form on me at the moment."
Jakob reached into his bag, pulling out a slip of parchment he had prepared earlier. He held it out casually, careful not to appear overly eager.
"That's alright, professor. I brought one just in case," giving the man in front of him an easy smile.
Lockhart accepted the slip, glancing at it briefly. For a moment, he looked as though he might actually read it. Jakob tensed, but before the professor could inspect it too closely, he spoke up again.
"It's just…" he paused for dramatic effect, lowering his voice slightly. "I can't wait to start doing heroic things in your name, professor."
Lockhart's hand froze, and a wide smile spread across his face. "Well, my boy, I can certainly understand the urgency! Let's not delay greatness, shall we?"
Without another word, he signed the slip with a dramatic flourish and handed it back to Jakob.
"I will do what I can for my fans," Lockhart chuckled, his chest puffed out with pride. "But do remember to be careful, Mr. Quade. The Restricted Section has some… challenging material. Not that I doubt your ability, of course!"
"Of course, professor. Thank you again," Jakob finished, standing and bowing slightly before tucking the permit into his robes.
As he turned to leave, Lockhart called out, "Oh, and remember! This stays between us, hmm?"
Jakob nodded with a sincere smile. "Absolutely, professor. Thank you."
With that, he left the classroom, closing the door softly behind him. Inside, Lockhart took a satisfied sip of tea, smiling to himself. "Ah, such a promising young lad. They really don't make them like me anymore."
Jakob walked toward the library, his slip held tightly in his hand. He felt conflicted, the satisfaction of success mingling with a faint sense of disgust. Groveling wasn't his style, but with a reward like this, there had been no other choice.
He glanced down at the signed permit and smirked. "let's see if you were worth it."
The familiar quiet and the scent of old books greeted him as he entered the library. Madam Pince was seated at her usual spot behind the desk, her sharp eyes scanning the room like a hawk. Jakob straightened his posture and walked toward her with purpose.
"Good morning, Madam Pince," Jakob said, placing the slip on her desk. "Professor Lockhart asked me to deliver this to you."
Madam Pince raised an eyebrow and picked up the parchment, her expression unreadable at first. Then her eyes widened slightly as she read the words.
"Dear Merlin, why would he grant you this?" she asked, looking up at him suspiciously.
"That's between the professor and me, with all due respect," Jakob replied smoothly, catching the frown forming on her face.
Pince narrowed her eyes but didn't argue. "Don't mind if I verify it, Mr. Quade? Professors don't usually grant access to the Restricted Section without good reason."
Jakob gestured politely for her to proceed. "By all means, Madam Pince."
The librarian pulled out her wand and pointed it at the slip. "Este Signum Reale," she said firmly.
The signature on the slip glowed gold for a moment before fading back to its normal ink. The old librarian studied it carefully, then gave a reluctant nod.
"It seems legitimate," she muttered, placing the slip in a drawer with the others.
Jakob held back a grin, keeping his expression calm and composed. "Thank you, Madam Pince. I hope you have a wonderful day."
Her stern expression faltered for a moment as she nodded back. The faintest twitch of a smile was on her lips as she replied, "You too, Mr. Quade."
Jakob turned and walked toward the doors leading to the Restricted Section. He paused briefly, taking a deep breath before pushing them open.
The room beyond was dimmer, quieter, and lined with books that promised knowledge few dared to access. Jakob stepped inside, his eyes scanning the shelves.
His attention went immediately to the section on runes. He moved between the shelves, muttering to himself as he searched.
"I need…" he began, trailing off as his eyes caught a title.
"There you are." He pulled the book from the shelf and read the cover aloud. "Wards to Protect Your Home and How to Create Them."
Flipping through the pages, he studied the diagrams and explanations of rune-based wards. The runes were intricate and complex, each one promising a layer of security against intrusions.
"I need something that isn't dangerous," Jakob whispered to himself, "but strong enough to hold and hard to break."
He stopped on a page and studied it carefully. A small smile tugged at his lips as he traced the diagram with his finger.
"Perfect," he said softly, shutting the book and sliding it into his bag.
Satisfied, Jakob turned and headed back toward the library doors, his mind already racing with ideas.
"I don't understand why you would want to ward our room. Do you really think someone will break in?"
Pansy sat cross-legged on her bed, watching her roommate as he focused on burning symbols into the door. The smell of charred wood lingered faintly in the room.
Jakob turned slightly, flashing her a quick smile. "No, but now that I'm part of the Slytherin Five, it's better to be safe than sorry." He shifted his attention back to the book in his hand and continued etching runes into the door, the pattern starting to resemble a delicate snowflake.
Pansy frowned, resting her chin on her hand. "Can you even do runes? We don't start that class until next year, and you're acting so confident. Have you done this before?"
Without turning around, Jakob replied, "I haven't, but I know the basics. It can't be harder than rituals, and we made that happen."
When he finished, Pansy stood and walked over to inspect his work. Her fingertips brushed lightly over the symbols.
"It's actually… kind of beautiful," she admitted, tilting her head to take in the full design. "Is it finished? Does it work now?"
Jakob chuckled, stepping back to admire the door himself. "Not yet. That was the easy part. Now I need you and Saliza to stand in a circle with me."
Her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. "Why?"
"I need to teach the ward who's allowed to enter. It'll only recognize the three of us."
Jakob raised his wand, flicked it toward the book on the desk, and muttered, "Wingardium Leviosa." The book floated in front of him, its pages flipping open to the correct section.
"Saliza, come here," Jakob hissed firmly but affectionate.
The snake uncoiled slowly, her crimson eyes gleaming as she slithered onto his shoulders. "This will be… intriguing," Saliza hissed softly, her voice carrying a tone of faint amusement. "Let's see if you handle this as well as you think my youngling."
Jakob gave a small smirk, setting down a jar filled with fine powder. He unscrewed the lid and carefully poured it onto the floor, forming a clean circle around them. The powder shimmered faintly under the light.
Pansy watched him closely, her frown deepening. "What is that stuff?"
"Hippogriff bone powder," Jakob answered, not looking up.
Her mouth fell open slightly, and she took a step back. "What? Why do you even have something like that? And what exactly are you doing with it?"
Jakob straightened and picked up his wand, turning to face her. "This part is important. You need to stand completely still and stay silent while I chant. If you move or speak, the ward might lose control."
"Lose control?" she repeated, her voice sharper now. "What does that mean?"
"It means if you mess this up, it could kill all of us," Jakob explained, giving a nonchalant shrug. "The usual side effects when working with runes."
Pansy stared at him, her arms falling to her sides as disbelief spread across her face. "What!?"
She opened her mouth to continue, but Jakob raised both hands to stop her, his wand already moving as he waved it toward the door.
"Don't speak," he said calmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He glanced at the open book floating beside him and began reading the chant aloud.
"Custos lapideus, ad munitionem surge. Silentium tene, nos protégé. Quicumque limites nostros frangat, audiamus et resistamus. Nunc in aeternum firma esto."
Pansy fell silent, though her frustration was written all over her face. She watched as small bursts of magic sparked from Jakob's wand. The magic moved in soft waves, flowing toward the runes etched into the door. As the magic reached the runes, it collided with something unseen, sending ripples across an invisible barrier that shimmered faintly.
Her eyes darted around the room, and she realized the barrier didn't just cover the door. It surrounded the entire space, forming a protective dome.
Minutes passed, and Jakob finished the incantation with a final flourish of his wand. He turned to Pansy, a triumphant grin on his face.
"For the first time ever, something went right. No complications," he said, poking his wand against the barrier. The faint shimmer rippled outward again, proof the ward had taken effect.
Pansy tilted her head, her scepticism softening as curiosity took over. "What exactly does this ward do?"
Jakob stepped out of the circle, carefully levitating the bone powder back into its jar. "It's called the Rock Defense. It's not strong enough to stop a grown wizard, but for a student, it would take hours to break through. And if someone tries, it'll alert me, you, and Saliza."
Pansy frowned slightly, tapping a finger against her arm. "That's a lot of effort for just that."
Jakob's grin faltered, his tone turning mockingly annoyed. "Sorry for not crafting a Gringotts-level ward on my first attempt. Maybe you'd like to show me how it's done, oh great Parkinson."
Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying."
Jakob smirked as he turned toward her. "But there's one more thing it does."
The look on his face made Pansy take a cautious step back. She had seen that smirk enough times to know trouble was coming.
"What thing?" she questioned, watching closely as Jakob pocketed his wand and gently placed Saliza onto the desk.
"It's soundproof," he said, his smirk widening.
Pansy's eyes went wide as realization dawned. "No. Jakob, don't you da—"
But it was too late. Jakob lunged forward and tackled her onto the bed, laughter erupting from both of them as the wrestling and tickling began.
"Jakob!" she yelled between laughs, swatting at his hands.
The match continued, with Pansy both hating and secretly loving every second of it.
The Slytherin boy took yet another evening stroll through the castle's empty corridors, his steps echoing faintly as he searched for new secrets to uncover.
He had explored parts of the castle last year and was now combing through the second floor, his fingers brushing against the cold stone walls as he walked. The silence was oddly comforting, a rare reprieve from the constant whispers and plotting in the Slytherin common room.
Being popular was more exhausting than he had imagined. Everyone wanted something—an alliance, a favour, or simply to pry into his business. The endless scheming left him drained, and he found himself wondering if other houses faced the same.
Hufflepuff, for instance. Surely, they didn't deal with the same level of manipulation. But then, what problems did a typical Hufflepuff face?
His thoughts drifted, pulling him in another direction. Ella. He missed her presence, her soft laughter, and how she could make the darkest days seem lighter. He hadn't spoken to her much since term started, and guilt settled in his chest. With everything happening, it was better to wait until things calmed down, but the distance was harder to bear than he had expected.
His mind shifted again to the bushy-haired girl in Gryffindor. A sad smile tugged at his lips as he walked the empty halls.
He had tried to reach out to her using the enchanted card he had given her, but there had been no response. She still smiled at him when they crossed paths, and once, she'd even hugged him. But there was always a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, especially when she was with the golden trio.
"Can't she see they're just using her for her intellect?" he muttered under his breath, frustration leaking into his voice. He turned another corner, his steps slowing as his thoughts lingered.
And then there was that darkness. The power he couldn't yet harness. The search for a magical resource strong enough to unlock it had hit another dead end, forcing him to put the idea aside for now.
He closed his eyes, letting the faint sounds of the castle fill the silence—the gentle whistle of wind through the cracks in the stone, the soft flicker of flames from the torches lining the walls.
"Come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you."
Jakob froze. His eyes snapped open as a chill ran down his spine.
"What the…"