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P.O.V Kai Shinra

Kai doesn’t taste anything he eats for dinner. He isn’t nervous, probably, but he can’t stop remembering. If Potter has multiple memories that awaken similar levels of dread in him as the one he caught glimpses of, just how badly have they been taking care of their so-called saviour?

Shouldn’t he have been protected? And why isn’t anyone doing anything against the smear campaign that is currently the media’s favourite chewing bone?

The dinner vanished before he finishes his food, but he doesn’t feel hungry at all. Getting up and finding his way to Professor Snape’s office happens without any input from him. At least he doesn’t need to get help to find the place. Legilimency is very useful, but he needs to get a grip. He already used it twice that day, he can’t become reliant on it again.

In an attempt to claw together some composure, he cycles through a breathing exercise multiple times before knocking on the door. 

A gruff, “Enter!”, is so muffled by the door that he isn’t sure if he is really allowed in. It makes the most sense however and he pushes the door inwards.

His Head of House is sitting behind his desk, looking far more comfortable surrounded by bottles with uncertain content than he does in any other setting.

“Close the door.”

The door locks as soon as it closes, and he has to focus on occluding to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.

There are letters on a separate, smaller table. He doesn’t move from the door, just in case those letters aren’t meant for his eyes.

“I do not have all night. Sit down.”

The chair is predictably uncomfortable. It’s cold too.

Cold earth against his palms.

He tries to focus. Professor Snape is silent for longer than he would be if he really had anything better to do.

“Do you know what these are?”

It takes him a moment to remember that he must be referring to the letters.

“No, Professor Snape, sir.”

“They are letters I have received after your sorting yesterday. As they all pertain to you, I think it is appropriate that you are going to be the one to read them. Take out some parchment and a quill and surmise the key points of every letter. When you are done you may leave.”

Oh, this is cruel. Those letters are surely from the parents of other Slytherins complaining about someone without a speck of pure blood in Slytherin.

“Yes, Professor Snape, sir.”

He pulls out a roll of parchment and a self-inking quill. And then he starts reading.

<< Professor Severus Snape,

As I received the news, I hurried to write to you.

Is it true that a mudblood was sorted into Slytherin?

If no, do not mind this letter, I do not require a response. I simply heard some rumours; you know how one gets in old age.

If this is indeed true; can nothing be done? Thinking about my Heiress being in close proximity to a mudblood makes me fear for her magic! It is simply unacceptable!

If you do not have the leverage to get him resorted or, better, expelled then please do let me know. I will write to the Ministry next.

Yours respectfully,

Lady Sally Wilkins >>

He stops himself from taking a deep breath. His Head of House would hear, and he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

The belief that those without magical family members stole their magic is ridiculous and sadly not unheard of in the States. But he has never been accused of actively stealing the magic of people he interacts with. It is something very easy to prove wrong too.

He tries not to commit the letter to memory, but occlumens are just more aware of the whereabouts of their memories than other people. Nobody ever really forgets things. They just can’t recall them.

Right now, this means he takes unpleasant memories and puts them into a box. That box is then pushed into some faraway corner of his mind.

He shakes his head slightly and takes up the quill.

To make things easier on himself he should use a generalised form. What information would Professor Snape expect him to write down. A name for sure. If a reason for writing the letter in stated and maybe if there is a need to write a response?

If they aren’t discriminating against them, they call No-Maj-borns by something other than mudbloods, don’t they?

‘Lady Sally Wilkins. Believes muggleborns are stealing magic, only wants a response if there really is a muggleborn in Slytherin.’

He thinks for a moment before adding another sentence.

‘Will escalate to the ministry if that doesn’t change.’

Then he refolds the letter and puts it away.

The next letter is even more upsetting, alluding to multiple less than legal means to get rid of him. The sender seems to be of the opinion that ‘muggle hunting’ should never have been abolished. And that muggleborns are basically muggles anyway.

The descriptions of what he would like to do to any No-Maj-born are so graphic, the man must have at least seen things like that happen before.

A straight line of fiery pain along his forearm.

‘Lord William Harper. Believes muggle hunting should include muggleborns and be a widespread practise. Only requires a response if the school would like him to take care of the problem.’

That’s good enough. Has to be, really. The only good thing about this is that he will remember all of these names. He won’t ever make a mistake and think any of them are on his side.

Not all letters are from people that think he is stealing their precious children’s magic. Some aren’t even from people whose children are in Slytherin.

Multiple people write to Professor Snape to mock him.

<<Serves you right, that a muggleborn is sorted into your house this year of all years!>>

These letters are-

They make him angry as well.

He acknowledges the emotion and tells it, you can’t change this, until it subsides.

Letters like that come from people that know about the situation. And they use that knowledge to mock Professor Snape. They don’t care about him even tangentially and that makes those letter almost as bad as the letters from people who actively want him dead. While these people might not kill him themselves, they wouldn’t do anything if others do.

He is sure that if asks the senders of those letters what they think about the inclusion of muggleborns in the magical world they will tell him that muggleborns are no different and excluding them is evil. Hypocrites.

Not that he can ask them, most of the mocking letters aren’t signed.

The total number of letters isn’t that high, but he takes a very long time to read through them. Not alle of them are signed and some of them are multiple pages long. He leaves the thickest envelopes for last and regrets it when the very last letter is ten pages of graphic threats against himself and against Hogwarts, for allowing his sorting to happen.

Refreshingly, the biggest issue doesn’t seem to be his blood, instead the author professes multiple times just how much he hates Asians.

He doesn’t even think of himself as Asian. As far as he knows, in his family only his grandmother has ever set foot on Asian soil, and he looks nothing like her.

They must have assumed, because of his name, but even his last name is the one his grandmother made up for herself after arriving in the States.

It’s still terrible to read, but there are worse things.

A cooling body clutched against his chest. Applause.

Once he is done, he places the quill down. There is no clock in Professor Snapes office, so he can’t really tell how long it has been, but it must have been hours.

“I have surmised all the letters, sir.”

No need to push his luck and ask to leave.

His Head of House looks up from his own work, presumably creating lesson plans, and frowns at him. Maybe he was expected to just sit quietly and wait to be dismissed? That can’t be it.

“Bring the parchment here.”

Standing up feels weird after so long on the uncomfortable chair. He must have forgotten to move a little, it happens when he is too busy with his mind to take care of his body.

Professor Snape looks over the parchment carefully before staring at him for another few minutes.

“If I ever hear even a rumour of you using harmful spells against anyone, you will be back here immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor Snape, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

As soon as he closes the door behind him, he knows with startling clarity that he won’t sleep tonight. Instead, when he arrives at his dorm room to his roommates already sleeping, he opens his trunk and digs a small carving knife out from underneath his shirts.

The tip is a little duller than he would like, but sharpening the knife would definitely wake up his roommates, magic or no magic.

He looks at his bed, planning a runic array on a not flat surface is a challenge, mostly because he isn’t all that good with runes, and applying this particular one to a bed requires thinking outside of the box a little.

Technically the four-poster bed with curtains does contain a room. It’s rather heavy too, so it isn’t strictly seen a moveable object any more than a house is. Does he need to stick it to the ground permanently for that to work? Probably not.

Mind made up he starts carving intricate little runes into the bedposts. The ward isn’t a very difficult one to break, anything harder to get through is far beyond his abilities, but it will hold up against other schoolchildren. Professor Snape could and would get through if ever given a reason to, but Kai can’t see the man entering the dorms without very good reason.

Of course, there is a risk to putting up this ward again. If anyone figures out how to get through this one without breaking it by force, they could also get through the only other time he put up this ward. That one was erected much less hastily and would therefore not break as easily to brute force.

It’s like using the same password on multiple devices, not advisable at all. However, this is the only ward he knows how to put up that won’t continuously drain him and also hold up against most if not all students.

It’s deep in the night by the time he finally finishes the last rune of the first pass. In about a week, he can apply a second round of runes. If he keeps it up for a few months even Professor Snape won’t get through the ward easily. On the other hand, the wooden posts aren’t really walls, which might diminish the effects. And they don’t have as much surface area, potentially he will only fit three sets of runes on them.

Still better than one set, but frustrating, nonetheless.

He vanishes the wood shavings from his bed, hides the knife again and contemplates going to sleep for a few hours. It won’t be as restful, but it’s usually better than nothing in the long run.

But he knows he won’t be getting any proper sleep even if he tries. Cold stone against his back. He needs to sort out the consequences of relying on Legilimency too much.

***

P.O.V. Theodore Nott

After falling for Gregory and Vincent’s laughably pathetic attempt at hazing yesterday, the new student appears at breakfast with ample time to spare and not in the company of his new roommates. Draco will probably ‘teach him a lesson’ in inter-house unity soon. Theo is going to make sure neither he nor Blaise are involved with that, predictable things are boring, and Draco will have more fun if he goes with Tracy and Pansy anyway.

Not to say that Blaise and Theo are bad sports, they just don’t care about the same things as Draco most of the time. They have an understanding though, so he isn’t that likely to even try to involve them.

“No way! Your cousin did not!” The sixth-year is sitting way too close to him to be exclaiming that loudly about things Theo doesn’t care about.

“He totally did! He proposed to her before he even introduced her to my uncle because he knew he would never approve. And rightly so, a mudblood, marrying into our family? Unthinkable.”

These people are always insisting on manners right until they are gossiping. And so early too, it is aggravating.

“I’m so sorry for you, though. We will be reading about this in the Italian tabloids for years. Did your uncle disown him already?”

“Ugh. No, he has been training my cousin to take over the business and really doesn’t want to let all that time go to waste, so he is still trying to make him come to his senses.”

“Oh god, really?”

“Yeah, my aunt has been making vaguely discontent noises at her son over tea every day and he still doesn’t get how nice they are being. I mean, nobody outright shuns him, and he still complains?”

His aggravation with their chatter is getting worse, so he’s actively trying not to listen, with minimal effect. He normally doesn’t hate mornings, but maybe this one is just special.

Daphne is looking at him weirdly and as soon as he notices that he also notices that the grip he has on his knife flipped while he was lost in thought. Holding the knife this way is very unsuited to a peaceful meal and he makes eye contact with her while flipping it back.

She is unnerved, but not unusually so. Maybe she assumes he had a bad night? It’s amusing. The amusement doesn’t manage to distract him long at all. He tries to relax, but he can see Blaise glancing at him, so he knows that he isn’t doing a very good job.

Ending his breakfast early he decides that going to class already is beneficial. Whoever had made it so that they have Transfiguration first thing in the morning two days in a row deserves to be the victim of gruesome murder. McGonagall takes points from tardy Slytherins more than from tardier Gryffindors, most teachers actually do, but it is more noticeable with her. Maybe because she is Head of House for Gryffindor. Maybe because she is deputy headmistress and therefore shouldn’t be biased at all. Anyway, arriving sooner rather than later begins to look like an excellent plan.

He feels Blaise’s eyes drilling into the back of his head when he hurries out of the Great Hall. All the more reason to leave. He likes Blaise a lot, loves him maybe, but he can’t have this conversation right now. Any conversation really.

Seeking solitude is a fool’s endeavour, when he arrives at the classroom his new housemate is there already, he hadn’t noticed that he left the breakfast table before him. Theo can’t remember his name anymore. Shinra? Yeah, but what is his first name? Actually, who cares? Something-something Shinra. Close enough, he doesn’t have to call him by his first name, ever. Still, he sits in his normal seat and appreciates the quiet as long as he can.

Which turns out to not be very long at all, that he can’t remember the new student’s first name bugs him, he isn’t bad with names, but he never heard anyone say it. If Shinra ever introduced himself, it was at the welcoming feast and Blaise was his priority then. Really, Family Magic being able to harm the family makes it the worst thought out ritual he ever had the displeasure of being affected by. (Ever had the displeasure of his loved ones being affected by.)

Not that his own is any better than Blaise’s.

The students invade the quiet almost solitude between him and Shinra with loud chatter and complains just slightly before McGonagall herself sweeps inside.

He is sure the lesson would be absolutelyriveting if he was paying attention, but it was all just revision of the last years anyway. If he was bad at the subject, it might have been worth paying attention to, but as of right now he is pretty sure he can answer every question she asks.

Now that he isn’t almost alone anymore the aggravation is back. It wasn’t really gone, but it did subside a little, he didn’t really notice, but he sure does notice that it is back.

He can handle some mild irritation, no matter how unnatural it feels, if it persists he will find some charm to suppress the feeling.

It isn’t even that distracting, he can focus on the lesson just fine, but knowing himself it will make him even more averse to inter-personal contact than usual and Blaise needs a lot of that from him right now, so it is inconvenient.

School getting in the way of his plans or needs is nothing new though. In the manor nobody would stop him from disappearing into the library no matter the time but in Hogwarts, a school with the purpose of furthering his education, they impose so many rules he can barely get three hours of productive reading in a day.

Add to that that at least half of their lessons are wasted time, and the result is that he is learning less in a monitored environment than he would if he was just left to his own devices in the general vicinity of a library.

McGonagall keeps talking and his patience wears thin so quickly even he is surprised, normally he has no problem blanking his expression and bearing through multiple days of unnecessary and boring conversations. If he wasn’t capable of at least that much his father couldn’t take him to any social events and that simply isn’t feasible. He would have beat it out of him years ago.

When the lesson is finally over he gets up quickly and does his best to ignore Blaise’s eyes drilling a hole into his back again, he stopped during the lesson because Blaise at least pays lip-service to his education, but Theo knew he would be back to business right after. He can’t escape that conversation forever, but he can’t give in yet. Currently explaining his reasoning will make him sound like a cranky teenager and he would rather suffer. He would not rather have Blaise suffer though, so the running would have to stop soon. Just not yet.

He makes it through double Charms without great trouble because he already knows the current charm and they are still going over the theory, but going to lunch afterwards seems like an impossible hurdle. He would have to sit still and maybe even talk for an hour. Going without lunch is entirely more appealing.

When the lesson ends, he is the first one through the door, again, and he is around the next corner before the other Slytherins can follow him. Blaise will placate them and make up something of an excuse, but Theo will have to give him answers soon.

Answers he doesn’t really have.