Chapter Four - The Slytherin Rules, Customs, and Traditions.
Chapter Four - The Slytherin Rules, Customs, and Traditions.
“I am most pleased that you could all make it,” Fawle intoned, her voice imbued with an air of refined satisfaction as she surveyed the first-years, who were seated on the meticulously arranged chairs in the center of the Common Room. Most of the young faces displayed varying degrees of excitement—some barely concealed, others more reserved—while a few betrayed an unsettling hint of apprehension. It was quite apparent to discern the blood status of the students, revealing which among them had pure-blood parentage or esteemed Slytherin lineage.
Fawley did not delay in commencing the introduction. After all, she had her own O.W.L. studies to attend to, and the professors had already, after just one day, assigned homework.
“I am confident that many of you are already acquainted with the esteemed culture that prevails within Slytherin. Unlike the other Houses, which have long forsaken the traditions and visions of their founders, we in Slytherin uphold our heritage with unwavering pride and respect.
We cherish our Traditions and our Legacy,” she continued, her gaze sweeping over the assembly.
“We honor the wisdom of those who came before us, placing our trust in their guidance and teachings. Do not be misled by the ignorance or disparagement of those outside our walls. Here, you will invariably find support and counsel. Remember this most crucial rule of our House: under no circumstances should we ever engage in conflict with our own beyond these walls.”
Fawley ensured that she emphasized the word “walls” with deliberate gestures, drawing the first years’ attention to their surroundings. “Any grievances you may have with a fellow Slytherin are to remain solely within these walls,” she instructed, her tone stern as she allowed the gravity of her words to settle. “To the outside world, we present a united front.”
She paused, letting the message resonate. “The manner in which you resolve your so-called grievances must, of course, adhere to the principles of our House—solutions should be cunning and discreet. We do not favor ostentation; it is paramount that your actions remain unseen and unknown by those outside these walls.”
“We are not Gryffindors,” Fawley declared with a hint of disdain. “We do not act impulsively and think later; we plan meticulously. Our House traits—Ambition, Resourcefulness, Determination, and Cleverness—are expected to guide your every action. Academic tardiness will not be tolerated. Should you find any subject particularly challenging, seek out a Prefect who will assign you a mentor from the upper years. Of course, you will be expected to repay them for their kindness and guidance.”
A smirk curved her lips. “Nothing is given freely here. We are not Hufflepuffs , naive enough to offer loyalty or guidance without cause. Every act of assistance must have an underlying motive. Never be taught to aid others if you cannot ensure that you will benefit in return. As the House of ambition, we understand the value of favors .”
She paused, surveying the young faces to ensure her words were understood. “Do not worry. Everything will be thoroughly explained in the subsequent introduction. For now, let us focus on what it means to be a Slytherin, what is expected of you, and the legacy you are inheriting.”
She surveyed the room, a satisfied smile gracing her lips as she observed the expressions of awe on the young faces before her. It reminded her of her own introduction—a moment she had eagerly anticipated as a Prefect.
“I trust you are all familiar with the pamphlet,” she began, her tone both authoritative and precise. “A copy was, after all, placed on each of your seats. I am confident you also understand the consequences of attempting to remove it from these walls.” She noted the winces from some and the glint of satisfaction in others’ eyes. Her smirk widened slightly. “By the end of this year, you will have committed the entire pamphlet to memory.”
With a deft flick of her wrist, she performed a wordless Tempus charm, briefly displaying the time. The seamless execution of magic elicited a few murmurs of awe from the first years, a testament to her skill and poise.
“Before I release you to attend to your assignments,” Fawley began, taking a deliberate breath for dramatic effect, “allow me to impart the fundamental rule of our house—” She paused, ensuring she had captured the full attention of the first years. Their faces were a mix of anticipation and intrigue.
“Secrecy. In Slytherin, we uphold each other’s secrets, no matter how unsavory or unlawful they may be. You can rely on this unwavering principle. We do not judge others for their darker fascinations , nor do we disclose them. Here, all magic is revered, and academic curiosity is always welcomed. Should you wish to explore magical areas beyond the standard Hogwarts curriculum, guidance is readily available.”
She allowed a moment for her words to settle before continuing, her gaze sweeping over the now more apprehensive faces of the students, some showing signs of concern, disapproval, or excitement.
“Additionally, I trust you will exercise caution in concealing your emotions. While the common room is a sanctuary, we cannot afford to have anyone betray the house through uncontrolled expressions.” She paused, then added with a gentle, yet authoritative tone, “You are dismissed—except for you, Potter.” Her eyes fixed on the small eleven-year-old, whose nervousness was evident. “Please stay behind.”
The other first years scrambled from their seats, chattering excitedly about what they had just heard. Fawley moved with an air of grace to a corner, with Albus following closely behind. Scorpius, looking particularly concerned, stayed nearby, fidgeting and casting occasional glances toward Albus.
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“Potter,” Fawley addressed him with a voice that was unexpectedly soothing.
“Fawley,” Albus replied, his tone tinged with apprehension. He was already overwhelmed with the flood of new information and wasn’t sure if he should feel excitement or dread.
“I trust you’re aware that your new nickname has even reached our house,” she said.
Albus nodded in acknowledgment.
“I didn’t pull you aside to reprimand you,” she continued, her voice warm and full of genuine concern. “I simply wanted to check on how you’re feeling. You seemed quite overwhelmed yesterday.” She placed a reassuring hand gently on his shoulder.
“Potter, everything I’ve said stands true. Here, you will find both guidance and support, including mental support if necessary. Hogwarts does have on-call mind healers, should you require their services.”
Albus winced at the mention. While he was undoubtedly struggling, the idea of needing a mind healer seemed excessive. It was as if Fawley could read his thoughts.
“Potter, seeking the help of a mind healer is something many witches and wizards find beneficial, and there is no shame in it. The stress of exams and other pressures can be overwhelming, and maintaining one’s mental well-being is crucial,” Fawley explained gently.
Albus absorbed this new information with a mix of relief and surprise. He had not been accustomed to such discussions at home. His father, in particular, had always been resistant to the idea of seeing a mind healer, dismissing it whenever his mother suggested it. Albus felt a wave of relief and allowed his shoulders to relax. He was quickly realizing that the world beyond his family’s narrow view was broader and more accepting of different beliefs.
Fawley observed the changes in Albus’s demeanor with quiet interest, her hand still resting reassuringly on his shoulder. The boy appeared almost disoriented by the conversation, and Fawley found his reaction both endearing and intriguing. She had seen glimpses of potential in Albus's mind—his thoughts were complex and intense, hinting at a depth that could be well-suited for the study of the mind arts. Fawley had previously glimpsed into his mind, just a fleeting look, and she recognized a dark , seething potential within him.
“I’m not merely addressing this because of your recent behavior, Potter. I am extending this offer to you because many may not realize the significance of mental well-being in a witch or wizard's ability to perform magic effectively. Sometimes, when magic seems unresponsive, it can be attributed to the state of one’s mind. Young witches and wizards often struggle with control, leading to accidental magic or deficiencies in magical performance. Magic relies on intent and confidence; without these, one cannot harness it properly.”
Fawley observed as Albus processed her explanation, the understanding evident in his expression. She smiled, her demeanor softening, and gently ruffled the boy’s hair with an affectionate laugh.
“We all have our Dementors, Potter,” she said calmly.
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Albus didn’t know how to feel about his conversation with Fawley. She had offered him the option of meeting with an on-call mind healer. Apparently, even as an underage student, you could meet with one without your parents’ approval or knowledge. Legally, Hogwarts—and usually your Head of House—would have temporary custody during the appointment, often sitting in as a chaperone. This way, students with difficult home lives could receive help without their parents being informed, for their own safety. It was also funded by the school.
After what Fawley had said about the importance of mental health when practicing magic, it all made sense. But why hadn’t his parents taught him this? It seemed like such a basic thing to know. When he asked his roommates about it, they all acted like it was common knowledge. Only he didn’t know.
It wasn’t like he was raised a Muggle—far from it. Ever since he’d opened his eyes, magic had surrounded him. The resentment at having such crucial information kept from him by his parents began to grow. What other things, things everyone else seemed to "just know," had they withheld from him?
True to her word, even when the other houses teased him with his newfound nickname, his own house did not. They didn’t find it amusing either, never laughing when they heard someone say it. After all, it was an insult to Slytherin too—as if a squib could ever be sorted into their house. No, his house gave him other troubles, like the pressure to actually do well in his classes, or at least not fail as miserably as he was.
It hadn’t even been a full week before he was assigned a mentor. Albus had no issues with the course material, assignments, or theory. In fact, he was on par with the best student in their year in Potions and was the top of their class in History of Magic—likely because the others found the subject boring. Albus didn’t disagree, but it didn’t bore him personally.
He hadn’t yet had Defense Against the Dark Arts, the class he was both excited for and afraid of. He was eager to learn about the Dark Arts —and, of course, how to defend against them—but he knew it was a heavily practical subject. He hoped the first lesson would be mostly theoretical.
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Fate didn’t like Albus. That much he knew, but now it seemed like Fate herself was out to get him. His first Defense Against the Dark Arts class included practical elements, taking up half the lesson time. His new teacher, whom he was quickly starting to resent, strongly believed in a "hands-on" approach to learning. So here he was, expected to learn and practice the Knockback Jinx. Thankfully, they wouldn’t be practicing on each other—not yet, at least. For now, they’d start with objects, then move on to dummies, and eventually, each other.
After yet another class ended in failure, Albus made his way to the second introductory meeting on Slytherin rules and customs. Despite his struggles, he was genuinely excited. All this new information felt like a breath of fresh air. His family had always been so against anything they deemed “evil” or “too pure-blooded,” but here in Slytherin, it felt different. He knew no one else in his family could have survived in the snake pit—they wouldn’t be able to handle the knowledge of what some students were up to, nor could they keep the secrecy rule. Albus smiled to himself. But he was different .
Even with all the insults from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff—about being a snake, friendly with Death Eaters, or dabbling in the Dark Arts—and despite his own family’s view of the green house, Albus found himself proud to belong here. It was like being part of a hidden game, knowing things others didn’t. It felt special. There was a sense of belonging and solidarity, especially after all the hate from the other houses. The comments and “concerns,” thinly masked as ignorance and stereotypes, didn’t push him away from Slytherin—they only made him embrace it more.
It was so utterly not Gryffindor, and that was something he liked. But most of all, he enjoyed the secrecy, the knowledge that it would be kept, and the possibility of learning things his family would never approve of. It was exhilarating and unnerving in the best possible way. And while there was always an underlying motive in everything, at least here, everyone was aware of it.
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The days of the week passed, and finally, it was time for the second introductory seminar about Slytherin’s rulers, culture, and traditions. Albus felt a flutter of anticipation in his stomach; the time had come.
As he took his seat beside Scorpius, the chairs were once again arranged in the center of the common room. The first years filled the seats, and older students gathered in the back or lounged on nearby armchairs and couches. Their presence added a layer of anticipation and, perhaps, a hint of mockery. The older students’ faces bore expressions of amusement and excitement, clearly relishing the opportunity to observe the first years’ reactions.
Before long,The Slytherin Headboy Albus had seen but not yet spoken to strode confidently to the front of the room. Dominic Nott, heir to the most Ancient and Noble House of Nott, exuded an air of unassailable authority. He moved with the practiced grace of a seasoned leader, every gesture radiating command and confidence.
He cleared his throat, and the room fell into a hushed silence.
“Esteemed First Years,” Dominic began, his voice smooth and commanding, “I am Dominic Nott, heir to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and your King. I am not merely your Head Boy but the embodiment of our house's legacy. With that introductory formality addressed, let us proceed.”
His smile was coldly calculated, a predatory glint in his eye. “You are fortunate to witness this presentation, a longstanding tradition that marks the beginning of your journey with us.”
“Welcome to Slytherin House,” Dominic continued, his tone dripping with pride and superiority. “Here, excellence and ambition are not merely encouraged but demanded. This house is the crucible where leaders, visionaries, and individuals who grasp that success is not given but earned are forged. As a member of Slytherin, you are expected to rise to the occasion and exceed the ordinary.”
He cast a measured glance around the room before continuing.
“In your inaugural year, you will familiarize yourself with the workings of our house. Your focus should be on earning house points, establishing initial connections, and proving your worth. Every action is observed, and first impressions are lasting.”
“By your second year, you will witness the emergence of the ‘Top Girl’ and ‘Top Boy’—those who have mastered the art of influence and leadership. These titles are not mere honors but symbols of their command over their peers. Your ambition should be directed towards observing, learning, and positioning yourself for such acclaim.”
“As you advance toward your third to fifth years, the competition will intensify. It is during these years that you must solidify your alliances, showcase your prowess, and engage in the strategic maneuvers that will determine your future standing. Remember, in Slytherin, power and influence are not bestowed; they are claimed through wit and tenacity.”
“From your third year onward, the positions of ‘Prince’ and ‘Princess’ of Slytherin will be awarded. These roles are given to those who have demonstrated exceptional leadership and influence. Each year, new Princes and Princesses will emerge, representing the pinnacle of achievement within their respective year groups.”
“Your sixth year is pivotal. The roles of ‘Prince’ and ‘Princess’ will continue to hold significant weight, but the final battle for the ultimate title of ‘King’ and ‘Queen’ of Slytherin will begin. These prestigious positions are reserved for those who have excelled in leadership, command, and influence throughout their years at Hogwarts.”
“In your final year, the ‘King’ and ‘Queen’ will be determined from the pool of Princes and Princesses. The competition will be fierce, as all Princes and Princesses will vie for the top roles. The connections and power you acquire here will shape your future beyond Hogwarts. Your conduct during these years will have profound repercussions on your path in the magical world.”
Dominic let the weight of his words settle over the first years.
“Now, how do you achieve prominence? Let us begin with: The Mechanisms of Influence.”
“Achieving Prominence: Excel academically, participate vigorously in house activities, and cultivate strategic relationships. True influence demands not only talent but a sophisticated understanding of power dynamics.”
“Navigating Rivalries: Rivalry is inherent to our culture. Form alliances judiciously, engage in calculated competition, and always be prepared for the subtle machinations that define our house.”
“The Drama of Ambition: Embrace the drama and complexities of Slytherin life as essential components of your development. These challenges are mere stepping stones to greater achievements.”
Dominic’s tone grew more contemplative, but his superiority remained unshaken.
“Why, you might ask, should you pursue this? Let’s discuss: The Real-World Implications.”
“Beyond the walls of Hogwarts, the affiliations and alliances you build here will resonate throughout the wider wizarding society. From influential family connections to advantageous marital contracts, the relationships you forge in Slytherin will shape your future within the magical community.”
“A final consideration before I move on to another matter:”
“Be Astute: Every decision you make and every interaction you have is part of a larger strategy. Think critically and act with purpose.”
“Forge Alliances: Your success hinges on your ability to align with powerful and influential peers.”
“Embrace the Challenge: The path to greatness is fraught with trials. Embrace them with the poise and determination expected of a Slytherin.”
“Now then, esteemed first years,” Dominic’s voice took on a more personal tone, “It is my esteemed privilege to introduce you to the essence of our illustrious house and to clarify certain misconceptions that have been whispered about us. As you embark on this grand journey, it is essential to understand the true nature of our values and traditions.”
The older students at the back, drawn into the focus of the presentation, seemed particularly interested. More of them had gathered at the edges, their attention fixed intently on Dominic.
“Ah, blood purity—the topic that seems to ignite the most fervent debates,” Dominic said, his tone tinged with amusement, eliciting a few snickers from the older students.
“You may have heard the usual chatter about our house's fixation on blood purity. While some of it is warranted, it is not always for the reasons you might think. Salazar Slytherin’s disdain for Muggles and their ilk is often misunderstood. It’s not merely about the blood but about preserving the integrity of our magical heritage. In his time, Muggles feared and persecuted magic. Our founder was far more concerned with safeguarding our kind from those who would seek to destroy us than with excluding Muggle-borns based solely on their lineage.”
A few more snickers from the older students could be heard. They appreciated a well-delivered speech and a good turn of phrase, especially when it was at the expense of the naive.
“Let us not be too naive about our values,” Dominic continued. “Hogwarts was created not only as a bastion for purebloods but also as a sanctuary for Muggle-born witches and wizards. In an era rife with witch-burnings and Muggle persecution, it was Muggle-borns who suffered the most, lacking the protection of the magical community. Muggles, in their ignorance and fear of magic, often resorted to barbaric practices. It was not only our pureblooded ancestors who were at risk; Muggle-borns bore the brunt of this cruelty, exposed and vulnerable.”
Dominic’s gaze swept over the room, noting the nods of agreement and occasional amused glances from the older students. They understood the value of a historical context that reinforced Slytherin’s superiority.
“While blood purity has certainly been a part of our history, it is the qualities of ambition, cunning, and strategic thinking that truly define us. Our house does not merely celebrate one’s ancestry; it rewards those who are clever, ambitious, and, indeed, a bit ruthless. This is not to say that all Slytherins embrace the dark arts, but rather that our ideals resonate with those who understand and navigate the complexities of power and influence.”
“Being pureblooded is about more than just a name on a family tree. It is about embracing a rich culture and legacy meticulously cultivated over generations. While blood purity and pureblooded culture are often conflated, let us be clear: our culture is a testament to a lineage of excellence and tradition. To disdain this heritage is to spit in the face of our ancestors who have contributed so much to the wizarding world. It is not merely about the purity of blood but about upholding a legacy of refined culture and privilege.”
Albus looked around the room. Smirks adorned the faces of the older students, and the first years appeared awed by this version of their history. Albus felt a mix of awe and concern. If this was true, why was there so little understanding of it? It angered him that others viewed Slytherins and Salazar in such a skewed light due to ignorance.
Dominic surveyed the room, his gaze lingering on the first years.
“Some of you may hold more traditional views on blood purity. How quaint,” he remarked with an amused tone, subtly suggesting that such views were perhaps outdated but not unwelcome.
“We are aware that such perspectives exist and will not reprimand you for them. After all, tradition has its place, though it is wise to keep such views discreet. Be cautious about where and to whom you express these sentiments. It is crucial to navigate these waters with subtlety and intelligence.”
“In Slytherin, you are welcomed not merely for your ancestry but for the strength of your mind and ambition. Embrace our legacy, and you will find yourself surrounded by hidden knowledge and opportunities that others can only dream of. Our house stands as a beacon of excellence and tradition. Value this heritage, and you will not only succeed but thrive in the true spirit of Slytherin.”
Dominic concluded with a flourish, “As you join our ranks, remember that Slytherin House values the individual’s contribution to the whole. Your success reflects not only on you but on our house as a collective. Strive to be an asset to our legacy, and you will find the power and influence you seek.”
Nott’s gaze swept over the group, ensuring the gravity of his words was understood. He then addressed the first years one last time before concluding.
“We all are well aware that this is a great deal of information to absorb,” he said, his tone softer but still authoritative. “More details can be found in these books.” He flicked his wand, causing a stack of neatly arranged instruction manuals to fall onto a nearby table. “Although you will each receive a copy of this book, it must remain in this common room. Do not attempt to remove it. The consequences are far worse than trying to take the pamphlet, and rest assured, we will know if you try.”
With a final, meaningful glance at the group, Nott dismissed them cheerily. Nott was immediately surrounded by both first years and older students, who eagerly fawned over him.
Albus, still seated beside Scorpius, noticed his friend’s unusual perplexity. Scorpius’s eyes met Albus’s, a look of uncertainty crossing his face as if he were unsure of what to say or do. Albus felt a similar sense of confusion and unease.
Despite the apprehension, Albus took a copy of the book, his curiosity piqued. He wondered about the enchantments or curses placed on it to make removing it a worse offense than taking the pamphlet. The dark warning from Nott lingered in his mind as he examined the small, neatly bound manual.
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Albus had not written back to his mother or father, nor had he opened their letters, despite his growing pride in being in Slytherin. He feared his parents' reactions. Each morning, he felt a surge of relief when no Howler arrived. He wasn’t ashamed or disappointed in his house—he was fitting in well and thought he looked good in green. But just because he had accepted this part of himself didn’t mean he was ready for his parents to. He had no idea how his family would react, especially if they found out he was proud of being in Slytherin.
The problem wasn’t just his family at home, who could be ignored for now. It was the extended family at school—cousins, siblings, and others who seemed either curious or eager to share their opinions. They always wanted to talk to him, and it was becoming harder to go undetected. Scorpius, for his part, had grown increasingly irritated with Albus’s habit of taking the long, less-traveled routes to avoid them. Scorpius, who valued punctuality, didn’t appreciate being late to class, and that was becoming the first "grievance" in their budding friendship.
Albus had finally pushed Scorpius to his boiling point. Scorpius really cared about their lessons, and Albus assumed it was partly because of all the teasing and bullying. Scorpius was coping by maintaining an impeccable academic record, becoming the classic teacher's pet. It was his way of staying sane—throwing himself into books and assignments to drown out the noise. Albus could understand it, even if he dealt with things differently.
Instead of studying, Albus spent hours exploring the castle, often getting lost more times than he’d like to admit. His adventures made him late to classes, caused him to lose points for Slytherin, and earned him several detentions. It didn’t take long before he found himself in trouble with his housemates. To get back into their good graces, he had to swallow his pride and do some serious damage control—starting with helping out his sixth-year Mentor Devon Burke by collecting some truly foul-smelling herbs in Herbology. The task was as tedious as it was disgusting, but it was the price he had to pay.
But now, thanks to all his exploring, Albus knew exactly which paths to take to avoid not only his family—who were actively hunting him down and growing increasingly frustrated with his constant evasion—but also the teasing and bullies from other houses. This newfound skill had surprisingly fixed things with Scorpius, who, although reluctant at first, was now quite pleased and relieved that they could avoid the worst of the bullies, at least outside of class.
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Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and soon summer had shifted into autumn, then autumn into winter. The first snow was now falling over the castle grounds, bringing a sense of dread to Albus. He realized he couldn’t keep avoiding his family forever. The winter holidays were approaching, and he’d have to go home. There, no secret paths would save him from the inevitable confrontation.
Albus couldn’t focus on his work. His mind kept drifting to the looming winter holidays and the inevitable confrontation with his family. His mentor, Devon Burke, who he had built quite a successful partnership with over the semester, noticed his distraction but gave him grace when Albus mumbled a vague excuse. Burke didn’t press for more details—one of the many things Albus appreciated about Slytherin's unspoken rules. In Slytherin, they stayed out of each other’s business unless invited in, and Albus was deeply thankful for that.
The last thing he needed was someone poking into his thoughts.
Albus hadn’t taken up Fawley’s offer for a mind healer, not feeling ready to take that step. She accepted his decision gracefully, reassuring him that the offer remained open whenever he needed it. Albus appreciated her not pressing further. Instead, he’d asked for advice on how he could help himself. Fawley had suggested meditation, explaining that a clear mind was essential to stabilizing his magic and core. She also promised to lend him a book from her family's private library on the subject.
Albus was grateful but wary. He knew a favor like that came with expectations in Slytherin. Still, he didn’t reject the help.
Not needing further mentoring for the term, Burke had given Albus some leeway, promising to resume their sessions in the new term. Yet, Albus found himself spiraling deeper into distress. The date of his winter break was approaching, and with it, a growing sense of dread. The workload was piling up, and he felt like he was being dragged underwater by inferi. He spent most of his time moping around the dorm, staying in bed except for classes and reluctant meals.
Scorpius, growing increasingly concerned, tried to offer comfort. Albus leaned heavily on him, pouring out his darkest fears and insecurities. He spoke of his family’s rejection, his fear that they wouldn’t understand or accept him for being in Slytherin, and the possibility of being disowned or thrown out. Albus nearly broke down in Scorpius’s arms, overwhelmed by thoughts of his father’s disappointed gaze and the fear that his family had already discarded everything he left behind, preparing to expel him from their lives.
Scorpius kept trying to reassure Albus, insisting that it was improbable his father would react so drastically. He went on about how Harry Potter would never disown him, how there was no way the famous hero could be so cruel. But that comment was the final straw. Albus was enraged. Of course, Scorpius was just like everyone else—utterly blinded by the glorified image of Harry Potter. To them, Harry Potter was a flawless figure, incapable of any wrongdoing. Scorpius’s comments felt like a punch to the gut, a stark reminder that everyone saw Harry as a perfect hero, and by extension, believed Albus’s fears and struggles were meaningless. It was as if his emotions were invalidated simply because Harry Potter was supposed to be infallible. Albus’s rage and despair only deepened, feeling more isolated and hated than ever before.
It was the night before they were expected to leave, and Albus had stormed out on Scorpius, leaving him distraught. Albus moved through the castle after curfew, his rage and anxiety fueling his steps as he climbed the stairs to the top of the Astronomy Tower. He knew he had been a complete jerk to Scorpius—gentle Scorpius, kind Scorpius, patient Scorpius who had listened to his endless worries and fears for weeks. Scorpius, who had stood by him through every bully, every prank, and every nasty comment from other houses. Scorpius, who had been by his side during all those jinxes and curses from upper-year students.
Albus felt a twisted sense of pleasure from making Scorpius concerned and distraught over him. It sickened him, the way he could derive some perverse satisfaction from seeing his friend’s worry and distress. He leaned against the railing of the tower, staring out into the night. He had fond memories of this place—Astronomy lessons where Scorpius would teach him about stars and planets, the moons of Jupiter. He recalled how half the information would go in one ear and out the other because he was more focused on studying Scorpius than the celestial objects they were supposed to be learning about.
Now, standing there alone, the cold night air did nothing to cool the turmoil inside him. He looked up at the stars, his only witnesses to his anguish. Their distant, indifferent gaze seemed to mock his pain, but also provided an odd sense of solitude. In the face of their quiet observation, Albus let himself cry, the tears mixing with the frigid air as he struggled with the weight of his actions and the growing despair that consumed him.
He took a deep breath that came out as a small cry, his eyes welling up and his body trembling. Beneath the vast night sky, with only the stars as witnesses, Albus broke down completely. He cried and screamed and trembled, collapsing to his knees as the snow began to fall softly around him. The cold, wet flakes settled on his shoulders and hair, mingling with his tears, while the silence of the tower enveloped him in its somber embrace.