Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K Rowling.
Monday 10th November 1975
Rookwood Appointed Head of Department of Mysteries Amidst Ministry Shake-Up
In a surprising turn of events following a significant shake-up within the Ministry of Magic, the enigmatic Augustus Rookwood has been appointed as the new Head of the Department of Mysteries. This decision comes on the heels of a series of high-profile appointments and resignations that have left the Ministry in a state of flux.
Rookwood, who has long been associated with the Department of Mysteries, is no stranger to controversy. His previous role as an Unspeakable has raised eyebrows, particularly given the department's secretive nature and the sensitive work conducted behind its closed doors. Many in the wizarding community are left wondering what this appointment means for the future of the Department and the Ministry as a whole.
In a statement released shortly after the announcement, Minister for Magic, Harold Minchum, expressed his confidence in Rookwood's abilities. "Augustus Rookwood has demonstrated exceptional skill and dedication throughout his career. His deep understanding of the mysteries that lie within our world makes him uniquely qualified to lead this vital department during these challenging times."
However, not all are convinced. Critics have raised questions about Rookwood's loyalty and the potential for conflicts of interest, given his previous connections to certain factions within the wizarding community. Some fear that his leadership could lead to a further entrenchment of secrecy and a lack of transparency in the Department's dealings.
"What do you think about this?" Thomas mused, tearing a piece from his buttered toast and glancing at Severus, whose brow furrowed in thought.
The enigmatic Rookwood had been appointed as the new head of the Department of Mysteries. The news seemed to cause the most buzz at the Slytherin table. Severus remembered Rookwood. He had been a classmate of Malfoy, a lanky, sullen, dark-haired boy who had always peered down his nose at him.
He remembered Rookwood's icy gaze, the barely veiled contempt aimed at him and his friends, mere peripheral figures in the grand Slytherin scheme. Severus surreptitiously glanced down the Slytherin table. Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier, all steeped in the same pureblood ideology, were practically radiating smug satisfaction as they peered at their copy of the daily prophet. The news clearly suited them.
"I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. He's probably in someone's pocket." Marcus interjected. "Probably that prick Malfoy's."
"It's the Ministry," Severus grumbled as he took a bite of his toast. "Someone is always in someone's pocket."
The Ministry of Magic, a labyrinthine mess of corruption and bureaucracy, reeked of the same elitism. It was a system designed to elevate purebloods while pushing those like Severus and his mother deeper into the shadows. Growing up in Knockturn Alley, they scraped by on scraps made from their potions. He remembered more than one occasion when he witnessed Aurors harassing his mother about her potions.
He clenched his jaw, pushing the bitter thoughts aside. Dwelling on past injustice wouldn't help him succeed, not when he was fighting an uphill battle just to be taken seriously at Hogwarts.
Pushing all thoughts of politics out of his head, Severus turned the conversation around and discussed their lessons for the day. They spoke about the upcoming Charms essay and the difficulty of Arithmancy and Transfiguration.
Soon, breakfast came to an end, and the trio began packing up before heading out of the Great Hall alongside the wave of chattering students.
The usual discussions of Quidditch, potions, and their Patronus came up as they marched toward Transfiguration. Their peace was short-lived; as they turned the corner, they ran into Potter's gang. It seemed the four Gryffindors noticed them before they could find another path to class.
"Oi! Sniv! I want a word," Potter's voice echoed as he, alongside his friends, made his way toward Severus.
"What can I do for you, Potter?" Severus hissed as his eyes narrowed. He didn't need this right now. Why couldn't he simply get to class without these idiots appearing and causing him problems?
"It was real foul what you did to our mate, Peter," Potter spat. "You Slytherin rejects have no spines."
"Kettle calling the cauldron black," Thomas muttered as he peered at the group of Gryffindors.
"Shut your mouth, Reed," Black barked.
"Or what? You'll hex us?" Marcus scoffed, his hand clasped around his wand as he stepped towards the other boy. "I'd love to see you try."
Wands were out. How long they had been drawn was anyone's guess. Perhaps they were all so used to this dance that the sight of each other caused their hands to shoot for their wands and hexes to tickle the tips of their tongues.
But just as the confrontation was about to erupt into a full-fledged brawl, Minerva McGonagall's stern voice rang out. "What on earth is going on here?"
The group turned abruptly, paled at the sight of their Transfiguration professor. McGonagall stood tall, her posture impeccably rigid, a force of nature in her billowing robe.
"Boys, I cannot believe what I'm witnessing. This type of behavior is unacceptable," she snapped, her green eyes scanning the hostile faces.
Before any of them could retort, the air grew heavier with her gaze. "Slytherins—ten points deducted for your insubordination. And Gryffindors—another ten for your blatant provocation."
The boys momentarily swayed under the weight of her disappointment. She turned and gestured down the hall. "All of you, follow me to Transfiguration. I see no need for you to ruin any more of the day."
Reluctantly, the boys fell in line, their recent conflict fractured by the professor's scolding. As they walked, Severus couldn't help but feel resentment surge within him. The Gryffindors never failed to exploit every opportunity to embarrass them, and today was no exception. Marcus mumbled under his breath, oblivious to the weight of the moment, while Thomas quietly strategized their next move.
Time trickled by, and soon the final chime of the bell echoed through the classroom. Severus, shouldering his bag, fell into step with his friends.
"Finally," Marcus groaned, stretching his arms. "That was dreadful. Professor McGonagall really expects us to conjure a perfect emerald hue on our beetle? I swear mine ended up looking like a sickly lime."
Thomas chuckled. "Mine wasn't much better. At least it still had its legs."
Their chatter was cut short as a bright voice called out.
"Severus! Wait up!"
Severus turned to see Lily, her red hair a vibrant flame against the stone walls of the corridor, hurrying towards them. He felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his stomach.
"So, have you thought about it?" she asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "Hogsmeade this weekend? Are you in?"
Thomas and Marcus exchanged curious glances. Severus had remained tight-lipped about the invitation, knowing their reaction would be a mixture of disbelief and mocking derision. He tipped his head forward, allowing his hair to shield him.
"Lily, I'm not sure..." he began, his voice hesitant.
"Come on, Severus! Don't tell me you're still on the fence about this," she pleaded, her green eyes imploring. "It's Hogsmeade! It wouldn't hurt you to have some fun."
The truth of the matter was that he did want to go. The idea of spending a day exploring Hogsmeade with Lily was incredibly appealing. But Jane's stern words from the other day were still ringing in his ears: "Don't be a fool, Severus. You know how this works. Gryffindors and Slytherins are rivals. It's not like we're going to be friends." He sighed inwardly.
"It's just..." he stammered, searching for a plausible excuse, "I might have some studying to catch up on."
Lily frowned. "Are you serious? You're going to spend a Hogsmeade weekend buried in books?"
What was he thinking? Of course, she'll see through that poor excuse. Severus's eyes wandered as his mind raced to form a more solid reason not to go. Drifting down the hall, his eyes were suddenly pulled into the hazel eyes of James Potter. The boy stood leaning next to a suit of armor, his companions at his side as he glared at Severus.
He couldn't quite decipher the expression, but it felt like a challenge, an unspoken threat. Severus straightened his shoulders and pushed hair out of his face. He refused to be intimidated, especially not by Potter's unwavering animosity.
A surge of defiance coursed through him. Let Jane, Potter, and the rest of them be damned. He was no coward.
He took a deep breath and met Lily's expectant gaze. "Alright, Lily. Count me in."
Lily's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really? Severus, that's brilliant! I knew you'd come around. We're meeting in the Three Broomsticks at ten on Saturday, yeah?"
"Sounds good," Severus replied, a genuine smile finally gracing his lips.
"Great! I'll see you then!" Lily squealed, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. She spun around and hurried off, her red hair trailing behind her.
Marcus, who had been silent until now, scowled. "Going to Hogsmeade with Evans?
"If you're going to give me a speech about house loyalty, save your breath," Severus hissed, and the other boy frowned.
"To hell with that! I thought we were all going together," Marcus bristled, his blue eyes darting from Severus to Thomas. "At least I'll have Tommy, eh?" He clapped Thomas on the back, trying to force a jovial tone.
Thomas cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. "About that, Marcus… I'm actually going with Emmeline this weekend."
Marcus's jaw dropped. "You're both ditching me? Just like that? I can't believe it! Traitors! Both of you! Completely abandoning me to hang out with…with girls," he spat the last word out like a curse. He whirled around, his robes billowing dramatically before marching off.
Thomas rolled his eyes. "Drama queen," he muttered under his breath as he made to chase after the other boy.
"Let him go," Severus said as he grabbed Thomas. "He'll get over it."
"It's not that," Thomas said, an amused tone to his voice. "We should probably tell him he's heading the wrong way to Potions."
Severus shrugged. "He'll figure it out. Besides, I have a feeling Potions is the last thing on Marcus's mind right now. Now, about this Hogsmeade trip…"
The week at Hogwarts often felt like a whirlwind—a dizzying rush of classes, homework, and increasingly complex spells. For Jane, the memories lingered most vividly in Defense Against the Dark Arts. She recalled with a thrill the practice duels, the crackling energy in the air, and the distinct satisfaction of watching Sirius Black being sent sprawling from a well-aimed Stunner by her. The rest of the week, however, had been disappointingly uneventful.
Now, the weekend had arrived, promising a trip to Hogsmeade for most. But for Jane, it meant prefect duty. Assigned to supervise the first Hogsmeade weekend in November, she found herself pacing the snowy village streets, a stark contrast to the warmth and laughter she imagined her friends, Maria Blackwell and Anna Richards, were enjoying without her.
"Damn them," Jane muttered through gritted teeth.
Her situation was made more annoying by the relentless muttering of her Ravenclaw partner, a boy whose name constantly eluded her. Clifford or something? She really couldn't care less what it was, truthfully.
He droned on about obscure potion ingredients and some equally obscure Arithmancy theorem. Jane barely registered his words, her gaze sweeping across the bustling village. The crisp air carried the scent of butterbeer and roasting chestnuts, a stark contrast to the metallic tang of boredom coating her tongue.
Just when she thought she couldn't bear another minute of it, she spotted Marcus Addams in the distance. This was her chance.
"I'm so sorry. I need to go talk to my teammate... uh...about something important," she said quickly before dashing off.
"But we're supposed to stick together," came the distant argument of her patrol partner. But Jane was already gone.
"Addams," she cried out, and the blonde-haired boy spun as she came to a stop beside him.
"You alright Pace?" Marcus grinned, his breath puffing out in white clouds in the crisp air.
Strolling through the snowy village, their conversation drifted through the humdrum details of their week. Marcus sourly revealed that he had been abandoned by his usual companions.
"Can you believe those two?" he growled as his brows knotted together. "The one time I'm free to come down, and they've made plans."
"Plans?" Jane inquired with a raised brow, and Marcus let out a groan.
"Tommy went out with that Vance girl."
"The Ravenclaw?" Jane asked. "I wasn't aware they were together."
"She's his girlfriend in all but name," Marcus muttered. "Or at least he likes snogging her more than spending quality time with his friend."
Jane rolled her eyes. Marcus really did know how to make his problems a bigger deal than they actually were.
"What about Prince?" she asked, and that seemed to cause Marcus's face to grow darker.
"That idiot has agreed to meet up with Evans and her lot," Marcus spat.
Jane stopped dead in her tracks at that. "Has the boy completely lost his mind? Did he not hear a single word I said about the importance of maintaining inter-house harmony? Or is he deliberately trying to provoke a Gryffindor riot?"
Marcus, ever the loyal friend, frowned and begrudgingly came to Severus's defense. "Maybe they're discussing potion recipes. I'm sure Sev knows what he's doing."
"I would certainly hope so," hissed Jane.
Marcus, sensing her sour mood, changed the subject.
Their conversations drifted to lighter topics: the Transfiguration assignment that had baffled half the fifth years and the upcoming Quidditch season that would start after the Christmas holiday.
"I presume you are planning to stand in my way for the captain position?" Jane asked with raised brows.
"As if you need to ask. I'm just as worthy as you are, Jane. My skills on a broom are nothing to scoff at," Marcus said, puffing out his chest.
"Oh, I'm well aware of your... skills," Jane retorted, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. "However, being captain requires more than just a good backhand pass, Marcus."
Marcus frowned. "Are you questioning my leadership abilities? I possess all the qualities necessary for a captain."
"Oh yeah? such as?" Jane smirked.
"Strategic genius," Marcus declared, his blue eyes glinting. "Not to mention, unyielding determination."
Jane scoffed playfully. "Strategic genius? You once flew directly into the Whomping Willow during practice."
Their playful argument continued as Marcus led Jane towards Honeydukes. "Come on," he said, "all this responsibility is making you cranky. Some Sugar Quills should fix that right up."
Inside the shop, the air was thick with the sugary scent of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs. They emerged a few minutes later, each clutching a bag of treats. As they strolled along the snowy street, they passed the infamous Shrieking Shack.
"Remember when we were convinced during first year that it was haunted by tortured souls?" Jane chuckled, pointing towards the dilapidated building perched on a hill overlooking the village.
"Or that it was a secret passage to a dragon's lair beneath Hogwarts," Marcus added, shaking his head in amusement.
They continued to trade silly rumors they had heard about the shack, but their laughter stopped when Jane noticed a familiar figure slinking along the edge of the village.
"Wilkes," she hissed, grabbing Marcus's arm. "What's he up to?"
Wilkes, his usual smirk replaced with a furtive expression, pulled his winter cloak closer. They watched as he slithered into the Hog's Head Inn, a dingy establishment with a reputation for attracting a less savory clientele. Jane's mind began racing.
She hadn't forgotten what she had heard at the start of the term: how she had witnessed the older boy conversing with someone and how they were to meet up at Hogsmeade.
"I don't trust that weasel as far as I can throw him." Jane said, her voice hardening.
"So? Let him have his firewhisky in peace," Marcus said, pulling against her grip. "Why do you always have to stick your nose into everything?"
"Because," Jane retorted, "sometimes, sticking your nose in is the only way to stop things from going terribly wrong. Come on, Marcus. This feels… wrong."
She tugged him towards the Hog's Head, ignoring his grumbling protests. The interior of the inn was dimly lit and reeked of stale ale. They found a secluded booth, partially hidden by a grimy curtain, not far from where Wilkes was sitting.
Moments later, the door creaked open again, and Lucius Malfoy entered, his platinum hair gleaming even in the dim light. He joined Wilkes at a table in the back corner. Jane leaned closer, straining to hear their hushed conversation.
"...everything is in order..." Wilkes was saying, his voice barely a whisper.
"...Dark Lord..." Malfoy replied, his tone equally low. "...soon..."
Jane felt a chill run down her spine, colder than the November air. She exchanged a wide-eyed look with Marcus. Dark Lord? What was going on? She felt her heart pound in her chest as she tried to make out the words that were being spoken.
Before they could gather more information, a hulking figure loomed over their table. The innkeeper, his face etched with suspicion and annoyance.
"You two," he growled, "I don't like the look of you. Out. Now!"
Marcus attempted to use a subtle charm to dissuade the innkeeper, but the man was surprisingly resistant. They were unceremoniously tossed out into the snow, the door slamming shut behind them.
Back on the main street, Jane felt a tremor of fear. "Did you hear that, Marcus? 'Dark Lord'..."
Marcus's face was pale, his usual bravado momentarily absent. "I heard. What do we do?"
Jane hesitated. What should they do? Tell Dumbledore? But who would believe them? They had no proof, only overheard snippets of a clandestine conversation.
As they continued up the snowy street, Jane stopped. "Marcus, you can't tell anyone about this. Promise me. Not a soul."
Marcus looked at her questioningly. "Why not? We should tell someone, Jane!"
"Because," Jane said, her voice low and urgent, "we don't know who we can trust. Promise me, Marcus. Please."
Marcus studied her face, his expression troubled. He knew Jane. She wouldn't ask this without a good reason.
"Alright," he said, reluctantly. "I promise. But Jane, we can't just ignore this."
Jane nodded. They would have to find out what Wilkes and Malfoy were up to. She muttered that she'd see Marcus later before heading off to find her patrol partner. Her mind was a swirl of speculation and theories, all of which troubled her.
He watched with detached amusement as two rowdy students were unceremoniously ejected from the pub, their protests quickly swallowed by the general din before being silenced by the door slamming. He barely registered the commotion before turning back to his companion, the patrician features of Lucius Malfoy illuminated by the flickering candlelight on their table.
"Unruly lot," Wilkes commented, his voice low and laced with disdain. "A waste of perfectly good magic."
Malfoy merely offered a tight smile. "They lack direction. The Dark Lord provides that." His gaze swept the room, assessing and judging. "Have you had any progress recruiting Prince?"
Wilkes sighed, swirling his drink. "He's proving… resistant. I've approached him several times, laid out the advantages and the power he could wield. He's a brilliant potion-maker, no doubt. But he remains stubborn."
Malfoy's nostrils flared. "The Dark Lord sees potential in him. A half-blood, yes, but one with a sharp mind."
"I still don't understand why," Wilkes muttered, unable to quite suppress his skepticism. "A half-blood bastard like Prince? There are purebloods clamoring for a place at the Dark Lord's side…"
Malfoy's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "It is not for you to question our master and his grand vision, Wilkes. You will follow orders. You will cultivate a relationship with Prince. Understand?"
Wilkes flinched, humbled by the reprimand. "Of course. My apologies, Lucius."
Malfoy softened his tone, though the underlying threat remained palpable. "Maintain a cordial relationship with Prince. Continue to subtly influence him, paint a persuasive picture of our future. Perhaps…a little empathy might work. Find out what motivates him, what he desires. Exploit it."
"And if persuasion fails?" Wilkes asked, the question hanging heavy in the air.
"If he cannot be made to bend," Malfoy continued, his voice low and dangerous, "then he must be broken."
The words hung heavy in the air, the implied violence sending a shiver down Wilkes' spine, and he smirked. He nodded, his ambition overriding his hesitation. "I understand. I will do what is necessary."
The conversation shifted, lightening slightly as they discussed more immediate matters. "And your Christmas party, Lucius?" Wilkes asked, a hint of eagerness in his voice. "I hear the Dark Lord himself will be in attendance."
Malfoy permitted himself a small, self-satisfied smirk. "Indeed, it will be a significant gathering. Narcissa has done a marvelous job planning it."
Wilkes' heart pounded. His chance to finally prove his worth, to receive the mark, to become a true servant of the Dark Lord, seemed tantalizingly close. "I dream of the day I am marked," he confessed, his voice hushed with awe.
Malfoy chuckled softly, the sound devoid of genuine warmth. "Patience, Wilkes. All in due time. Your dedication will be recognized."
Malfoy rose to his feet, a fleeting, cold smile gracing his lips. "I must take my leave. Urgent matters require my attention." He paused at the door, his gaze sharp and assessing. "Stay in touch, Wilkes."
With a final nod, Lucius Malfoy disappeared into the gloom of the village outside, leaving Wilkes alone with his thoughts and his ambition, the weight of his impending task pressing heavily on his shoulders. The ale suddenly tasted bitter, the atmosphere in the grimy pub even more suffocating than before. He peered at his left forearm and a smile spread across his lips.
"Soon," he hissed to himself.
"Soon," he mumbled to himself as he peered at his watch. "Just a bit longer."
Severus shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench, the rough grain digging into his trousers. The Three Broomsticks was bustling with the usual Saturday afternoon crowd, a cacophony of laughter and chatter swirling around him. He found himself wedged between Lily, whose animated conversation he was attempting to engage in, and the palpable wall of disapproval emanating from her friends, Mary and Marlene.
He had only agreed to join them with Lily's insistent, albeit slightly overly enthusiastic, invitation. Now, though, he was beginning to question his judgment. Was a stolen hour with Lily worth the uncomfortable atmosphere and the feeling that he was being dissected by two pairs of scrutinizing eyes?
"So Severus." Lily began as her green eyes fixated on the lanky Slytherin boy. "I wanted to ask you about that modification you made to the Wiggenweld Potion the other day. It was brilliant! Did you really manage to accelerate the healing process by that much?"
"Oh," Severus felt heat rise in his cheeks. "It was just a small adjustment, really. I just thought that adding a touch more powdered unicorn horn would help speed up the process."
"It's fascinating, isn't it?" Lily said, her green eyes sparkling in the dim light of the pub. "The way even the smallest ingredient can completely alter the outcome of a potion. Honestly Severus, you should teach potions."
"I have nether the patience nor the desire to," Severus muttered.
The thought alone was ridiculous. A version of himself stood in front of a classroom of first-years trying to impart some of his wisdom but failing. It honestly made him cringe.
"Anyway. I'm going to grab us some drinks. What can I get you, Severus?" Lily said as she pushed a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear.
"Oh, I'm fine, thanks," he replied quickly, hoping to avoid the inevitable debate about what he wanted.
"Nonsense," Lily said, already halfway out of her seat. "You must be thirsty. Butterbeer, then?"
Severus grimaced inwardly. He wasn't particularly fond of Butterbeer, finding it excessively sweet and cloying. But refusing Lily, especially with the watchful eyes of Mary and Marlene boring into him, seemed like a tactical error.
"Alright," he conceded, forcing a smile. "Butterbeer sounds...perfect."
As Lily navigated her way through the crowded pub towards the bar, Severus attempted to engage Mary and Marlene in conversation. "So, are you two looking forward to sitting your O.W.L.S?"
"I can't wait," Mary quipped, her tone dry. She was meticulously cleaning her nails with a small silver file, offering Severus a fleeting glance that held all the warmth of a winter wind.
Marlene simply shrugged, her attention never leaving the window as she watched the snow gently cascade down.The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. Severus felt like a trapped animal, desperately searching for an escape route.
His reprieve, however, came in the form of a less-than-desirable intervention. A familiar, arrogant voice cut through the pub's din.
"Well, well, well! Look what we have here."
Severus groaned inwardly. He knew that voice anywhere.
Potter, flanked by Black and Lupin, swaggered towards their table, their eyes fixed on him with undisguised amusement.
"Snivellus," Potter drawled, his lip curling into a sneer. "What are you doing slumming it with the Gryffindor princesses?"
Sirius snorted. "Probably trying to weasel his way into their good graces."
Severus clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "Leave me alone, Potter."
"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," Potter said, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Just curious to know what you're plotting, lurking in the shadows as always."
"I'm not plotting anything," Severus hissed, his voice rising in anger. "Just trying to enjoy a peaceful afternoon."
"With them?" Sirius chuckled, gesturing towards Mary and Marlene. "I find that hard to believe."
"Get lost, Black," Severus snapped.
"Ooh, feisty, isn't he?" Potter mocked, turning to Lupin. "What do you think, Remus?"
Lupin, looking uncomfortable, shifted his gaze. "Let it go, James."
Potter ignored him. "So, Prince, what exactly are you doing with Evans and her… entourage? Trying to weasel your way into her good graces?"
"It's none of your business, Potter," Severus said, his patience wearing thin. "Just leave us alone."
"Oh, but it is my business," Potter declared, puffing out his chest. "Lily is a friend, and I want to know what kind of snakes are slithering around her."
Sirius stepped closer, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Watch yourself, Prince. You're treading on dangerous ground."
Just then, Lily returned, carrying a tray laden with butterbeers. Her smile faltered as she took in the scene.
"What's going on here?" she demanded, her voice sharp.
Potter turned to her, his expression softening slightly. "Just having a friendly chat, Lily."
"It doesn't look very friendly," she countered, placing the tray on the table "You should leave."
Potter turned to Lily, his expression softening slightly. "C'mon, Lily-flower, we're just looking out for you."
"I don't need you to look out for me!" Lily snapped. "I can choose my own friends, and if I want to spend time with Severus, I will. So, go away!"
Potter and Lily continued to argue, their voices rising above the general din of the pub. Severus, feeling increasingly uncomfortable and unwanted, knew he had to extricate himself.
"Lily," he interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. "It's alright. I'm going to go."
Lily turned to him, her green eyes filled with disappointment. "Severus, you don't have to-"
"No, it's fine. I… I have to help Marcus with his potions assignment," he knew it was a weak excuse, but he needed to escape. He grabbed his bag and stood up, his face burning with embarrassment. "Thanks for the Butterbeer," he mumbled to Lily, avoiding her gaze.
As he turned to leave, he caught the triumphant smirk on Potter's face. He clenched his jaw and suppressed the urge to punch him. He pushed his way through the crowded pub, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere.
Outside, the crisp Hogsmeade air was a welcome relief. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.
The sight of the snow-covered village seemed to soothe Severus as he trudged towards the castle. His mind was still reeling from the events when he ran into a tall, dark figure. Staggering back, Severus attempted to apologize before stopping and staring.
"Severus," a familiar, cold voice drawled. It was Lucius Malfoy, his pale blond hair gleaming and his pale eyes flashing. "Fancy seeing you here."
"Malfoy," Severus hissed as he peered at the former Slytherin. "What are you doing here?"
"I just wrapped up some vital business, but that doesn't concern you," Lucius said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I must say, I am rather disappointed in you. I had thought you had put this rebellious act behind you. You are no longer a first year; is it not time for you to understand your place in Slytherin house?"
Severus glared. He didn't need this right now.
"The Knights of Walpurgis would welcome you. Your talents are wasted on those Mudbloods that follow you around," Lucius continued, taking a step towards Severus.
"I want nothing to do with you or your bloody Knights," Severus spat, his voice laced with venom.
Malfoy's expression hardened. "You're being foolish, Severus. Loyalty is rewarded. Join us, and you will be powerful. You will be feared." He held out a small pouch, jingling with galleons. "A token of our…esteem."
Severus stared at the offered gold, then met Malfoy's icy gaze. "I'm not for sale, Malfoy."
"I suppose not," Lucius hissed smirking. "Of course you're not the whore of the family. Your mother on the other hand."
The words hit Severus like a physical blow. His hand flew to his wand, his temper flaring.
"Take that back!" he bellowed.
But Lucius was faster. With a flick of his wrist, Severus's wand flew from his grasp, landing with a clatter on the cobblestones.
"You insolent little half-blood bastard," Lucius hissed, his face contorted with rage. "You think you can defy us? Those who do not stand with us will be crushed. Remember that, Severus. Remember that."
Severus watched Malfoy retreat, his pale blond hair swaying as he marched through the village. Severus spent a while standing there, his fist clenched and his jaw clamped shut. The rage was still bubbling. Turning on his heels, he began walking towards the castle, the threat from Malfoy hanging in the air like a suffocating cloud. The bitter taste of butterbeer was nothing compared to the bitter realization that no matter where he went, trouble seemed to find him.
A/N:
Hey folks. Another chapter out. Thanks for all the follows and favorites. I hope you enjoy the chapter. Don't forget to leave a review, I love reading them.
Till next time.