Enemies
Scorpius walked into the Potions classroom feeling slightly moody. During the way there he walked into some seventh-grade Gryffindors and their prefect, a tall girl with silver hair, took two points from him for “looking down on a prefect”. A few of them had laughed, and when Morrigan had tried to argue back, the prefect (who was a Weasley, apparently, even though she wasn’t a ginger) had taken another two points from them.
Slughorn was already there, but the Gryffindors hadn’t arrived yet. Scorpius sat with Damon and the girls got together, too; Watson went to sit far away from them, leaving Hector by himself.
“Mr. Watson, wouldn’t you rather sit with Mr. Kellerman?” asked Slughorn.
“No, sir. I’d rather be by myself”
Scorpius snorted. Watson had kept them up all night with his whining and at breakfast he had acted, again, as if repulsed by them.
“Professor Slughorn, honestly, it isn’t fair that Watson has to be with us if he would rather be in another House”
All his classmates agreed, vehemently, which earned them a distrustful look from Watson, who didn’t know whether to feel grateful or offended, but Professor Slughorn shook his head negatively.
“If the Sorting Hat sent him here it is because Mr. Watson belongs here”
“No, I don’t” declared Watson, crossing his arms and pouting.
Then the Gryffindors arrived and the Slytherins went silent. Scorpius saw Potter sit by his cousin. The boy forced to sit with Watson looked at the empty seat next to Hector as if he were wondering which of the two Slytherins was better company; Hector's hostile glare made him decide on Watson, who greeted him with one of his abject smiles.
Professor Slughorn started by calling the roll. Then he asked some questions, trying to get a feeling of their average level, and gave points here and there for answering correctly. Scorpius was glad to see that Hector and he knew quite a bit about Potions, compared to the rest of the class. Potter and Weasley stood out amongst the Gryffindors.
Then Slughorn asked them to write down some things from the board while he walked through the class, stopping by Weasley and Potter.
“Tell me, Mr. Potter, how are your parents?”
“They’re fine, thank you”
“And yours, Ms. Weasley?”
“They’re fine, too, thank you”.
“I had the honor of being their professor while they were studying here, you know? And your grandparents. Great people, all of them” he added, with a proud smile. Scorpius, however, pressed his lips with disdain. He didn't quite find it right that the Head of Slytherin should suck up to the Gryffindors like that. Scorpius had to admit that the kids didn’t look comfortable with Slughorn’s attention, especially Potter. Damon leaned on him.
“Oooooh, Mr. Potter, may I kiss your ass?” he whispered, imitating Slughorn’s tone.
Scorpius snorted with laughter, and Slughorn turned to them with a frown.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Pucey, behave yourselves, or I'll take points from you."
The two of them muttered "yes, sir" and went back to their parchment, while Slughorn kept chatting amicably with his Gryffindors.
The Transfiguration teacher, Roger Davies, had a reputation of being a bit stingy when it came to giving points to Slytherin, like Daskalova, but Scorpius found him pretty impartial. Also, the subject was promising. He’d never stopped to reflect about what Transfigurations entailed; it was complicated magic, but full of possibility.
After lunch they had Herbology class, with professor Neville Longbottom, the Head of Gryffindor. Gabriel had told them a lot about him, about the way he treated Syltherins, and how he favoured his own students. Since they had arrived at Hogwarts they’d heard a few comments that corroborated that view. Scorpius had seen him in the Great Hall, during lunch, and he didn’t seem that fearsome; he actually looked pretty nice, like professor Davies. But most things Gabriel had told them about Hogwarts had turned out to be true, and so Scorpius walked into Greenhouse I with a bit of apprehension and sat with his cousin at the last row.
Professor Longbottom walked in right then, all smiles, and called the roll after greeting them. Scorpius realised he looked at Diana Goyle with a strange expression when he said her name. When it was his turn, he raised his hand and he got the same look.
“Well… let’s hope you’re better at Herbology than your father. I seem to remember all of his plants died.”
Scorpius did not like the comment, but he pressed his lips and didn’t reply. Herbology… who cared about that subject?
Professor Longbottom continued calling the roll and then, like all the other teachers had done, asked them to copy a scheme from the board. After they were done, he asked them to follow him to Greenhouse I. He showed them the plants and explained their uses without getting into much detail. His grandma Narcissa had taken him and his sisters, Cassandra, on similar walks around Malfoy Manor’s gardens, but he had always enjoyed the view more than the talk and the explanations. Professor Longbottom peppered the explanation with questions; Scorpius knew the answer to many, but he didn’t raise his hand just in case. Soon he realised that Longbottom did nothing to hide his biases; by half the class the Griffindors had won 10 points while they had earned none.
Scorpius glanced sideways at the Herbology professor, who was chatting with Potter and Weasley. Potter noticed he was being watched and looked back at him with an expression more curious than hostile. Scorpius frowned and looked away. Maybe Potter hadn’t done anything to him, yet, but he was starting to feel a great deal of animosity towards him anyway; it was clear all the teachers had a preference for him, because of his father, just as they were biased against him, because of his father. Fine. He did not care. He’d much rather be a Malfoy and be his parents’ son rather than a Potter, with a dozen stupid cousins and their easy points.
Class continued and Professor Longbottom put them in pairs in front of a pot with a geranium and another, larger, empty pot, and explained how they should repot it. There was nothing magical about geraniums, but it was best to keep magical plants away from such untrained hands. Scorpius, who had paired himself with Diana, managed to transplant the geranium without damaging it too much; but when Professor Longbottom came to check on their work, he didn’t look impressed.
“Pitiful” he said, pressing his lips. “Two points from Slytherin. You better start working harder if you don’t want to fail this class.”
Scorpius lowered his head, angry and embarrassed. He always worked hard in class, he was not used to teachers speaking to him that way. From where he was sitting he could see two plants that looked way worse than theirs, but he didn’t say anything. Luckily the class was nearly over. Longbottom gave them some homework and dismissed them. Scorpius was upset, but he didn’t want to let it show, especially not in front of the Gryffindors, who were looking at him mockingly.
His cousin put her arm around him while they walked out.
“Ignore him, Scorpius. Your plant was okay.”
Scorpius shook her hand out, he couldn’t stand people touching him when he was angry.
“Fuck him” he said; this was the first time he had insulted an adult.
“What a shit teacher,” said Damon with sympathy. “They’d said he hated us Slytherins”
“We can still earn some points in Muggle Studies,” said Britney with optimism.
“Muggle Studies…” replied Damon, Morrigan, Cecily and Hector, with a contemptuous tone. Britney frowned.
“Have you got some sort of problem with muggles?” she said, sounding dangerous. But Morrigan stood up to her.
“You mum might be a great person. But muggles are racist, sexist, they keep polluting the planet and we ought to hide ourselves for fear of what they might do to us. I just don’t understand why we have to study their culture”.
“Not all muggles are like that,” she said, firmly.
“Never mind what they’re like. We’re wizards, we shouldn't be learning muggle customs” said Damon. Then he smiled smugly “My parents said it’s okay if I fail that subject”.
“I don’t have to pass it, either,” said Diana. Morrigan cocked an eyebrow.
“Nobody expects you to pass anything, knucklehead”. Scorpius hit her with his elbow.
“Leave her alone”.
Scorpius kept discussing the subject with his classmates while they walked through the stone halls. His parents weren’t too happy about it becoming mandatory, but they told him it was like any other class and they expected him to take it as seriously as the rest.
The Muggle Studies classroom was at the top of a high tower. It was covered by a potent magical shield, cast by Unspeakables, that allowed electronic devices to function. Professor Blackrow waited for them by the door. She was a thirty something woman, blonde and serious looking. Scorpius knew from Gabriel that she had been in Gryffindor.
“Please, kids, pick up these boxes and put your wands in them. You can not go into this classroom with them”.
“Why not?” asked Hector, suspicious.
“Because they’d mess up the electronic devices that are inside. C’mon, c’mon, look for the box with your name on it and put your wands inside”.
The kids looked at one another and it was Watson who took the first step.
“I don’t mind, professor”.
Scorpius gave him a resentful look and went over with the rest of his classmates to get his box. When he found it, he left his wand inside, remembering the day his parents bought it for him. It had been the day before summer, before leaving Greece, where they had been living the last two years, to settle permanently in England. The wand maker, a very old lady, had looked at him with her intense blue eyes and had found his wand nearly instantly: twenty seven centimetres, oak, with a core of manticore hair, ideal for charms and duelling. Scorpius felt very proud of it; there was no other wand like that in Great Britain and leaving it behind, even if only for an hour, was not a pleasant thought. But in the end everyone obeyed, more or less reluctantly. Professor Blackrow put all the boxes in a hidden closet on the wall and only then did she let them in. The Ravenclaws were already there, sitting down and talking in whispers. Michelle Urqhart had kept a seat for Morrigan and Watson also sat down with the Ravenclaws. Scorpius chose to sit with Britney, who was still a little offended by their remarks against muggles, and told Diana to sit near them. The professor called the roll, giving Scorpius and Diana a look very similar to the one Longbottom had given them before, and then stood before them.
“Let's see. How many of you have ever met a muggle?”
More than half the Ravenclaws raised their hands; amongst the Slytherins, only Scorpius and Britney did. The teacher looked at the boy with such skepticism that he felt compelled to explain himself.
“It’s true. When we were living abroad. In Greece, one of my best friends was a muggle. And in the States my parents took us to the movies and we went to muggle restaurants”.
She seemed to believe him, at least. Then Damon raised his hand.
“Professor, I’ve never met a muggle and I don’t intend to, can I be excused and go to my Common Room?”
Hector, Morrigan and Cecily burst into laughter. Scorpius smiled; he didn’t want to get in trouble, and he really didn’t have anything against muggles, but part of him enjoyed watching him get impertinent with the grown-ups. Professor Blackcrow, however, was not amused.
“And why is it that you don’t want to meet muggles, Mr. Pucey? Have you heard bad things about them?”
Scorpius shot him a quick warning look, urging him to be sensible. Everyone knew it was dangerous to speak openly against muggles; saying something that implied their parents, especially his mother, hated them, could get them in trouble. Luckily, Damon was a Slytherin through and through.
“No, professor, all my friends and my parents’ friends think muggles are very… equal. But we don’t have to be friends with them, right?”
Michelle Urqhart raised her hand and the professor gave her permission to speak.
“My parents don’t mind muggles either, but they think that instead of studying their culture we should learn about goblins, instead, because we talk to them more and stuff”.
Hector raised his hand and said something similar. Scorpius guessed they were all repeating stuff they’d heard at home, as if their parents had taught them what to think about this subject in particular. He had nothing to say. Grandfather Lucius had shared what he thought of Muggle Studies, but it wasn’t the kind of thing you could repeat outside of the family, of course; and his parents had never said why they didn’t like that it was mandatory.
But Professor Blackrow must’ve been used to students questioning her class, because she cut the debate short.
“The reason Muggle Studies is mandatory is so that we can end the prejudices that led to three wars during the past century, one in the continent, and two in our own country. Most of you live in an entirely wizarding environment, without any real contact with muggles, and hear all kinds of lies about them. Well, that ends here. During this first year you’ll learn about the daily lives of muggle children of your age; what they learn at school, what sports they play instead of quidditch and quadpot. If you keep an open mind you will have a lot of fun, I assure you. But if you attempt to boycott my class, you’ll spend so much time in detention that you will only see the outside of this castle during your Flight class”. She raised her head slightly. “I trust I’ve made myself clear”.
There were only two subjects left to have for the first time: Astronomy and Flight. All first years went up the Astronomy Tower on Wednesday at half past eleven. Some kids were whispering about how they were going to see the place where the great Albus Dumbledore had been killed, but actually, the Observatory was higher up. Scorpius missed the whole class because he was half asleep, and he wasn’t the only one. Luckily, Morrigan was alert as if it was midday and she took good notes. The professor’s name was Domenicus Biggle and he was a tall and skinny man with a sad looking face; Gabriel and the others told him he did not give points to Slytherin, but to Scorpius it seemed like he did not give points at all.
The double Flight lesson was on Thursdays in the afternoon, with Ravenclaw. Scorpius knew how to fly since he was little and was itching to sit on his own broom again. He thought it was very unfair that first years were not allowed to have their own.
Morrigan, Damon, Hector and Cecily knew how to fly, too; Britney confessed to never having learned before and Scorpius knew Diana couldn't stay on a broom for more than five seconds. Watson had said nothing and nobody had asked him. Morrigan had spat the word “pathetic” at the end of their second day and by now everyone was using it with liberty to refer to him.
Some older students from Hufflepuff glared at them while they passed and whispered something. Scorpius noticed and threw a glance at them as well; those little signs of animosity with the other Houses were becoming routine by now, and he didn’t like it, but he didn’t let it worry him. People were idiots and it wasn’t his fault.
“I don’t know what they’re laughing at” Morrigan muttered under her breath. “Everyone knows they send all the useless students to Hufflepuff”.
“Not all of them,” answered Scorpius, pointing at Watson. The rest laughed and they forgot about the Hufflepuffs. When they reached the Quidditch Camp, Madam Hooch was already there with their brooms ready. Scorpius noted that they were pretty old and felt disappointed, his broom was ten times better. And the class wasn’t too much fun, either. Because so many kids didn’t know how to fly, madam Hooch had them running laps practically at ground level, and threatened to take points away from anyone who tried to start a race.
During that first week at Hogwarts so many things had happened, and he had so much homework to do, that he had forgotten how much he disliked Professor Longbottom until they got to their double Herbology class on Friday morning.
During the first fifteen minutes nothing happened. Scorpius handed in his homework with the rest of the kids, and they looked at the nemula the professor had brought to show them. It was an exclusively magical plant, with flowers that changed colour when it was about to rain. Its roots had mild sedative properties and they were used in some medicinal potions. The plant did not require much care, it just needed to be kept in the sunlight and to be watered twice a week. Scorpius put extra care while working with it and he drew its flowers, leaves and roots on a piece of parchment paper. He wasn’t particularly good at drawing, but copying it wasn’t too hard and he was pleased with his work, especially after comparing it to the ones made by the students close to him.
It was all for nothing. Longbottom showed his work as an example of something poorly done and had the rest of the class looking for mistakes. Only the Gryffindors took part in that, and so they were the only ones rewarded with points. Scorpius kept his head down the whole time, hiding his resentment and embarrassment.
“Well, it is final,” said Morrigan, gloomily, after they left to go to Transfiguration. “That teacher hates us”.
“Especially you, Scorpius,” said Britney, with sympathy. “I do not know what your dad did to him while they went to school together, but he’s got it in for you. Scorpius frowned even more.
“Well, I don’t know what he did, either, but I’m glad he did it” he said vehemently. “He deserves it for being an asshole”.
“He is the worst of all teachers” thought Cecily. “And, also, he dresses like, so bad. It’s like his grandma buys his clothes”.
“A very tasteless grandma” clarified Scorpius, thinking of his own grandmothers, who were both very elegant ladies.
“And he’s got that awful voice, like a house elf’s”.
Watson, who had been lurking close enough to hear them, interrupted the series of silly insults.
“See how you are mean? I’m going to tell Professor Longbottom everything you’re saying about him!”
“I’m going to tell Professor Longbottom everything you’re saying about him” copied Morrigan in a funny voice. “Shut up, pathetic”.
“You say anything and you’re dead, fatass” threatened Damon.
That shut Watson up for the rest of the way, but Diana got in front of them before they got to the Transfiguration classroom.
“There’s nothing wrong with being fat,” said Diana, with her deep and unexpressive voice.
Damon looked at the big girl, seemed to think about the even bigger Mr. Goyle and nodded. “I only called Watson that because he’s the worst and we hate him, alright? There’s nothing wrong with being fat”.
Diana looked at Scorpius, looking for reassurance, and he shrugged.
“He wasn’t calling you that, that’s for sure,” he reassured her.
“No. Of course not, Diana” said Damon. He was close friends with her, like Scorpius was, but he did not see the point in making enemies with someone that could smash him against the wall with a punch over nothing.
The girl looked at him for a few seconds and let him pass. Scorpius had seen golems once, one summer in Israel, and since then, he thought about them every time he looked at Diana. They moved with the same inevitability. If Diana learned how to fly on a broom she could become the best Chaser, or maybe even Beater, of the last fifty years.
Albus was smart enough to tell that one of the things he liked the most about Amal Sharper was that, being a muggle born, he knew nothing about the Wizarding World and thus, had never heard about Harry Potter. That meant that, even though he was interested in the whole Voldemort thing, he saw Albus as he saw any other kid and not like the son of a symbol or something like that. And when the Common Room started to boil with war anecdotes, it was pretty easy to convince him to go out for a walk, because he was just as interested in seeing the moving paintings or having a chat with one of the ghosts or trying to take a look at the Giant Squid.
Up until now he hadn’t realised how famous his parents actually were, especially his dad. He knew his father was a great hero, and that he had killed Voldemort, and had heard many times how the Wizarding World was thankful. But now he understood that, actually, he knew very little of that World; his house, Teddy’s, his cousins, The Burrow. He had talked to very few kids his age outside of his family, and he’d barely been to Diagon Alley half a dozen times. He’d never had the chance to see that everyone knew who his father was.
James had told him, during his first year at Hogwarts, but Albus had not believed him. James had also said that he was adopted, that they’d send him to Slytherin, that they ate human flesh in that House, that house elves were born out of eggs and a million more things like that. Albus had learned, through experience, that he couldn’t trust everything his brother said and thought this Super Famous thing had to be a lie, too. But it wasn’t, and it was getting overwhelming.
On Fridays, after lunch, first years only had two mandatory study hours before they were free for the weekend. They were all packed with homework, but after they were done studying Albus and Amal decided to take a well earned break and go visit Hagrid, because Amal was itching to learn many more things about the giants.
“It’s just that- being at Hogwarts it’s like being on a videogame the whole time, I swear” he said, smiling ear-to-ear, on the way to the Groundskeeper hut. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I wish I could tell my friends, they’d trip”.
Hagrid, huge and with a big, bushy beard, welcomed them to his cabin with a wide smile.
“I’m glad you paid me a visit, Albus. Merlin, each day you look more and more like your dad, did you know?”
“I do”.
“You’re only missing the scar and the glasses. Tell me… what’s your friend’s name?”
“Amal Sharper”.
“Hello, Amal. I’m Hagrid. I’ve made some tea, would you like some?”
Albus had heard a thousand warnings about Hagrid’s biscuits, but it seemed rude to reject the offer. After one bite he realised the warnings were no joke, and he put it back on the plate, hoping Hagrid wouldn’t mind. The giant didn’t seem to notice, and he asked them about their first days at Hogwarts. Amal answered with his usual enthusiasm, explaining how amazing he thought everything was
“Had any trouble with the Slytherins?” he asked, taking out his wand to add another log to the fire. Albus knew Hagrid had lost the right to carry a wand because of a crime he did not commit, but after the war everything had been cleared up.
“None for the moment,” he answered.
“Good. They’ve been laying low these last few years. But you can never know, specially now that there’s another Malfoy. I know you don’t need me to tell you, Albus, but stay away from him”.
“I wasn’t planning on going after him or anything.”
“Hagrid…” said Amal, shy, but determined, “is it true that giants exist? That your mother was a giantess?”
“‘Is it true that giants exist?’ Well, I’ll be… It never ceases to amaze me how little muggles know. Of course, that’s the way it is supposed to be. But still, it keeps surprising me. Of course giants exist! And my mother was one of them, you’re correct.”
Amal then went on, asking all the questions he had wanted to ask, and Hagrid answered with the same enthusiasm. Albus listened, smiling, and happy to see they got along well. The afternoon passed while they shared stories of past adventures and the kids were sad to say goodbye when dinnertime came.
When they got back to the castle they saw Watson wandering the hall. The boy smiled and walked up to them.
“Hello. Are you going to the Great Hall?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come with you. Where were you?”
“We were visiting Hagrid”
“Oh… Well, if you come back, can I come with you guys?”
Albus exchanged an awkward look with Amal. “Sure, I guess…”
“It’s been such a boring day. Although I had some fun chatting with my mates from Hufflepuff. I don’t want to hang out with the Slytherins, you know… All they do is criticize Professor Longbottom, and mess with me, and they think they’re better than everyone else”.
Albus frowned; he didn’t like it when people spoke badly about the people he loved.
“They’re just mad because Nev- I mean, professor Longbottom didn’t like Malfoy’s drawings. What were they saying about him?”
William told him everything, and Albus got angrier and angrier as he listened, and by the time they got to the Great Hall Albus had to make an effort not to go and confront Malfoy and his friends. Instead he told James, who grimaced.
“Those little snakes will regret messing with uncle Neville”. Then he seemed to notice William for the first time. “You did well in telling us”.
“I am not like them!”
“No, I can see that” said James, with a magnanimous expression, making William smile. “It’s a shame you got sorted into Slytherin”.
“Yes, yes. I shouldn’t have gone there”.
Slughorn’s voice made them turn to the Professor’s table. “Mr. Watson, please, go to your table. It is almost dinnertime”.
Albus hurried to his seat, too, although he hadn’t been called out, and felt sorry for Watson once more, seeing the boy’s long face when he went to the Slytherin table. Malfoy and his friend greeted him with cold looks of contempt and ignored him, as they had been doing so far. James was looking at Watson, too, and suddenly an intense whispering conversation started between him, Fred and Michael. Albus tried to overhear what they were saying, but with the second year table between them it was impossible.
“What’s going on?” Rose asked him.
“Malfoy and the Slytherins were insulting uncle Neville. I think James and the others are planning a revenge”. Rose bit her lip.
“I hope they don’t get in trouble”.
Suddenly a small commotion started on the Slytherin table. Albus turned just in time to see William get up shrieking and covered in soup while the first and second years laughed.
“You did it on purpose!” he yelled, pointing at Pucey. “You’re an asshole!”
“Mr. Watson!” exclaimed professor Flitwick, getting up from his seat and running to the Slytherin table.
“He threw the soup over me! On purpose! I don’t want to sit with them again, I don’t want to go to Slytherin! I’m fed up, I hate them!”
Professor Slughorn had joined them and even Professor McGonagall had gotten up from her seat,
“Who spilled that soup, Mr. Watson?” asked the Head of Slytherin.
“Pucey”.
“Fine. Five points from Slytherin, and detention for you, Mr. Pucey. I’ll see you tomorrow at eight o’clock in the Potions laboratory. I am very disappointed. This is no way to treat a classmate.”
Malfoy crossed his arms. “Yes, some classmate,” he repeated, with a voice that sounded loud and clear. Albus looked at him, feeling surprised, because he hadn’t thought he’d say anything. Slughorn also seemed caught off guard. “If he is our mate why won’t he stop saying he hates being in Slytherin, or that he hates us?
“We can discuss this in the Common Room, Mr. Malfoy” answered Slughorn. “Now behave yourselves, and try to finish dinner without causing any more incidents. Come on, Mr. Watson, off to your seat”.
William looked at Slughorn with a sad face. “Please, Professor Slughorn…”
“Excuse me, Professor Slughorn…” Albus instantly recognized his brother’s voice and turned to see him, wondering what he was going to say. James had stood up, “If you, Professor Longbottom, and Professor McGonagall are okay with it, we wouldn’t mind if William sat with us. It is clear he’s a good lad. And, well, it seems unfair to ask him to sit with the Slytherins all the time if he doesn’t want to be with them, doesn’t it?”
Albus was stunned, too surprised to even ask himself if that was okay or not. Everyone in the Great Hall was aghast. Albus turned to William, who was looking adoringly at James.
“Well, this is certainly irregular…” began Slughorn.
“Oh, please… Please, please, Professor. I will go to class with the Slytherins and I’ll sleep with them if there’s no other choice, but please let me sit with the Gryffindors at least. Professor Longbottom, please…”
Neville looked just as surprised as everyone else. And no wonder, this must have been the only time in the entire History of Hogwarts that a Slytherin begged for permission to sit in the Gryffindor table. From time to time someone would sit with their friends from other Houses, but that was usually at lunch or at tea time, where everything was more informal.
“Just… Finish having dinner with the Gryffindors now, if the Headmistress will allow it, and will discuss it later.” But HEadmistress McGonagall didn’t seem too convinced.
“I don’t know… Alright, well, yes. Let’s finish dinner and we can discuss this later”.
William thanked them, about to burst with happiness, and picked up his plate and cutlery. Only then did Albus notice the terrible tension that reigned on the Slytherin table. Everyone was either pale or mortifyingly embarrassed. Most had stopped eating, as if they’d lost their appetite, and it felt like they were all too busy hiding their apprehension and disgust to do anything else.
“Look at that,” said a boy sitting in front of Albus, Jonah Broadmoor. “Not even Slytherins want to be in Slytherin anymore”. Albus giggled, but he felt a bit guilty. Something on the faces of the Slytherins was making him uncomfortable.
“I think that boy’s crazy,” said Amal. “When they go back to their Common Room after dinner, he’s going to get beaten up”. Most likely he’d get some nasty, nasty jinx cast on him, but Amal’s point stood. It was clear the Slytherins had not enjoyed that little scene, and the consequences could be severe. And as the moment of getting up got closer, it was clear William was reaching the same conclusion, because he wouldn’t stop looking at the Slytherins, who had resumed their dinner, but ate in an unusual silence. However, the Headmistress herself summoned William and the seventh-year Slytherin prefects to the staff table and said something that sounded like a warning. They nodded and returned to their table, without looking at the first-year boy.
Scorpius knew something terrible was about to happen; everyone knew, even Diana, who never noticed anything.
When their plates disappeared from the table, Scorpius got up as fast as the rest of his mates and walked straight to the door of the Great Hall, as if they’d been ordered to. He did not look at what Watson was doing, it didn’t matter. This was Slytherin business and it was clear he was not one of them. But when they got to the Common Room he was surprised to see the boy was just getting there, last of all of them. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself, so much so that Scorpius guessed McGonagall’s threat must have been big. Even so, the second the door opened, Rebeca Warbeck stood up in front of him and pointed at him with her wand, furious.
“You…!”
“You know what will happen if you hurt me!” said Watson, scared, taking some steps back.
“Trust me, that doesn’t seem too important right now…”. Then the other seventh year prefect, a big young man with a horse-looking face called Aquiles Flint put his hand on her shoulder. Scorpius remembered his dad was a Seeker for the Falcons. “It isn’t worth it, Rebeca. Go to your room, worm. We do not want to see your face here”.
Every single Slytherin student was looking at Watson, who swallowed loudly and left. Scorpius felt a wave of incredulity. What was his intention? Spend the next seven years being despised by all of his housemates?
“Listen.” Scorpius turned to Rebecca, who was calming down. “No one can touch one hair of that stupid idiot’s head, is that clear? McGonagall said that if anything happens to him she will revoke our permission to play Quidditch.”
“Fuck.”
“That’s bullshit”.
“It is what it is. With a bit of luck, Longbottom won’t allow him to sit with his Gryffindors, but if he does we’ll just have to deal with it. And from now on, I don’t want to see anyone talking to that bastard, is that clear? William Watson does not exist.
“This is bullshit, Warbeck” said McNair. “Anything that little cunt eavesdrops here could end on goddam Gryffindor ears”.
“We don’t have much choice.”
“We could teach the younger ones how to cast Muffliato” suggested Aino Kaspersen.
Just then Professor Slughorn walked in, looking serious. The Slytherin students, especially the older ones, greeted him with such open hostility that the professor flinched. His face looked now a bit hurt, rather than furious.
“Well… I’ve got to say I’m deeply disappointed with that scene you caused at the Great Hall.”
“We?” exclaimed Rebeca. “How could you let Watson sit on their table, like James Potter’s lapdog?”
“Lapdog… Watson is a boy that’s probably grown up hearing awful things about us Slytherins. What we needed was a nice welcome, and patience. Did you give it to him? No. And you know this better than anyone” he added, looking straight to the group of first years. “Have you made any effort to get along with him?”
“He won’t speak to us, Professor,” said Scorpius. McNair snorted.
“Do not blame the first years. This wouldn’t have happened if you had cut this short during the Sorting Ceremony”.
Slughoen threw him a look of resentment. “Do not get involved in this, McNair. Where is Watson, by the way?”
“We vanished him” said somebody, making some students laugh.
“He’s in his room. Don’t worry, we don’t want to lose the Quidditch team”.
Professor Slughorn showed his disgust again, reminded Damon that they were meeting tomorrow at 08:00 and then left, presumably to a meeting where they’d discuss Watson’s petition.
Then Rebeca turned to Damon. “And you. What were you thinking, spilling all that hot soup over him?” Damon didn’t answer and he turned to Scorpius looking for support. “I don’t know… He said they should have closed Slytherin after the war,” Scorpius explained. “He won’t stop whimpering at night, he doesn’t do his homework so that we lose points. No one can stand him”
Rebeca pressed her lips, but then sighed, resigned. “Ten points. That’s all we’ve gotten in five days, ten points…”
Aquiles put his hand on her shoulder. “We still got the entire year ahead of us.”
The tension had suddenly vanished from the air, as if the argument with Slughorn had dissipated it. All that remained was a bitter, slightly defeated feeling.