YOU’RE LOSING ME

———

Against the cool and jagged wall of the Owlery Harry had found a bit of peace as he cleared his mind, it was like a game he had perfected when he went back to the Dursleys. The pretend game, pathetic really, but soothing. Where he’d pretend that he was someone else, anywhere else and if he concentrated hard enough he could convince himself it was true.

That’s why when he saw Hagrid all those years ago come and tell Harry he was a wizard, he believed him without second thought, something beyond his wildest dreams had happened. It had come true. He had wished to be brought into a bright world anyway from the monotony and cruelty of the Dursleys and to be special, worthwhile not a freak. 

He’d gotten what he’d wished for when he became a wizard and entered the mad world of magic, but even still he’d been abnormal, an attraction, unwanted. And that magic world that seemed so special and wonderful was filled with the same evil and prejudice that perpetuated the very muggle one he’d always dreamed of escaping.

Even Hogwarts with its wacky teachers and weird customs which had felt like a little piece of home had been stolen with all the recent events. Leaving him as always powerless to the whims of the adults who wanted to control him or kill him.

None of it seemed to let up, he was curse. The boy who lived, what a joke, lived for what exactly…to die when they asked. It was like giving a blind dog a treat before it got put down, they were nice to him but stopped him from seeing the truth before they did what ‘had to be done.’

At the end of the day, in the muggle or magic world things stayed the same for him, he didn’t belong. He was still an orphan. People still wanted him dead, only it wasn’t the Pier’s and Vernons of the world, no it was the Voldemorts and the Dumbledore’s. Did he have a sign on his back that told the world to keep screwing with him. 

Useless, screw that and all of them. He didn’t trust a single one of them. The Dursleys were vermin but at least they made no mistake of hiding who they were, Voldemort was practically the Devil with how evil he was but at least he was honest in his attempts to end Harry’s life. He’d show them, he’d get Dumbledore back and anyone who-

He’d worn himself out with his fretting so it felt only natural when his head lolled against the corner of the Owlery.

As he dozed off, neither a flashing green light or the screams of his parents or Cedric met him in his dreams. Voldemort’s taunting was at bay and even Dumbleodre’s sickly sweet smile and twinkly eyes which seemed only malicious now had vanished. It was a miracle.

Only Harry didn’t get miracles, god forbid anything goes too well, instead he was just alone with his thoughts. A scary place to be in all honesty, well him and a younger version of himself.

Little Harry was sat in the all too familiar cupboard lining up his odd trinkets that he’d stolen from Dudley or School, they were still his though. Until someone tried to take them. Little Harry wasn’t even sad at the disgusting condition he was in, with his too long stringy hair stuck to his forehead, too large clothes and an odd chill that lived in his bones. It was no different than usual, it was just the norm.

Harry practically flinched at the sight of the little boys jutting bones and soft voice as he whispered to the shadows only this time something seemed to be staring back. Hidden in the very edge’s of the cupboard was a deep pair of red eyes that seemed to be watching little Harry. It was unnerving and disturbing and strangely familiar but just as he turned to get a closer look he woke up with a start to the small click of the door opening.

Staying deathly still in panic he saw a barely discernible figure walk inside. The intruder was tall but light on their feet, almost silent like some stalking animal which only made him panic more. His breath hitched and he craned his head to peer at who it was they gave their letter to a raven instead of an owl which was strange. 

But as soon as he moved closer, as if with razor shark reflexes and on high alert they spotted him. 

“Potter.” The voice spoke carrying across the empty Owlery.

It was Nott, of course it was, a Slytherin to haunt him even here, a death eaters son no less. It was only then he realized how red his eyes were and how alone he was trapped with Nott blocking the door. It was fight or flight and overcome in fury he disregarded his fear and jumped up to menacingly step forward. 

“What,” he snarled putting as much venom in his voice as possible, “your daddy sent you to finish his masters job, he works quick.”

Nott didn’t react, which only pissed him off further, instead he just stared at him with his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Harry realised this was the first time he’d ever actually interacted with Nott, taken him in, noticed him.

“You got nothing to say.” Harry spoke angrily advancing on the other boy who was frozen in place, the only thing giving him away was his exceedingly dark eyes which followed his every move in caution. It felt good to have a worthy target to fight with, if he was anything like Malfoy he’d be easy to rile up and would mean he’d need no excuse to get rid of the humming under his skin.

“Huh.” Harry said quieter but he had raised his wand now in defence and placed it at Nott’s throat similarly to how he’d seen Hermione do to Malfoy the following year. 

“Say something coward.” Harry spat digging the wand into the skin which surely must have been painful though Nott didn’t flinch, staring at him curiously instead above him.

It was only then he realized how close the two were and how even while seemingly tall and scrawny Nott was surprisingly solid.

“Well.” Harry said impatiently, deliberately ignoring the bobbing of Nott’s throat and the tightening of his jaw.

“You’re bleeding.” Nott remarked calmly with a slight accent, ignoring the overhanging threat and before Harry could retort about how pleased that must make him he gently grabbed Harry’s wand and dropped it to the floor.

Now he was backing Harry into a corner and raising his wand but as he prepared himself for the full blow of a curse a whispered spell came out of Nott’s mouth. Sanario. And instead of it being aimed at his chest it was placed on his hand. 

“What are you playing at.” Harry shouted back ignoring the fact Nott had just healed him for no reason. This night had been confusing enough already. 

“You should put a bandage on it.” Nott spoke again turning back to pet his bird before giving Harry a once over. “To stop infection.”

“Shut up. Don’t tell me what to do.” Harry seethed suddenly, very annoyed at being treated like a child and embarrassed that Nott of all people had been the one to see him like this.

Ignoring him Nott picked up his hand to inspect his work, Harry noticed the stain of his blood covered his hands though his was no longer bleeding and had healed up because of him, he pulled away once he realised what he was letting happen. Nott undeterred same as before picked up Harry’s wand off the floor and passed it to him without a word.

“Thank you.” Harry said begrudgingly, not all that willing to dole out niceties to his enemies. 

“It is no problem.” Nott spoke with that same hint of an accent and a lower voice than most fifteen year old boys should have. Harry watched as his sharp cheeks and sunken eyes against his pale skin made him look like a pretty ghoul. A half dead boy, Harry had seen a lot of them tonight. 

The two of them stood opposite one another in silence as neither seemed willing to move in case the other advanced. It was like a very peaceful duel with pleasant words replacing the wands, but Harry was on edge; it was probably going to turn ugly quickly. Nott was only doing all of this to lure him into a false sense of security before he would strike, like the snakes of his house. 

“I’ve never heard of a spell like that before. In any books I mean.” Harry remarked a little accusingly. His hands in his pocket as he scuffed his shoe against the ground. He didn’t mention that he knew no healing spells, he didn’t need to look like an even bigger idiot in front of Nott. 

“Of course you haven’t.” Nott stated with a disinterested glance lingering on Harry.

“Excuse you,” Harry spluttered, did Nott just make it seem as if he didn’t believe Harry could read. What a prick.

“It is not in any books because it doesn’t exist.” Nott explained as if it were obvious. 

“Your lying.” Harry scoffed, wondering why he'd even bothered to ask.

“I am not.” Nott said solemnly, his aristocratic nose scrunching in offense.

“Are too.” Harry retorted as the familiar hum of anger under his skin returned. 

“My mother made it.” Nott admitted his eyes averted onto the ground meaning that all Harry could see was the brown curls on his head that fell softly around him. 

“Oh.” Harry clicked his tongue feeling rather put out now before the steady feeling of guilt resumed. 

“Why were you bleeding?” Nott asked in curiosity his eyes narrowing onto him so intensely it made Harry want to hide, it was the same look Hermione got when she saw a particularly difficult assignment.

Damn him, he couldn’t admit that he’d punched a tree. But he also wouldn’t not answer, Nott wasn’t going to win. 

“Not that it’s any of your business but this was caused by your great Dark Lord, Voldyshorts after he killed Cedric so how does that make you feel following a man like that huh.” Harry was shouting now, again but this time Nott seemed as angry as he was. It was technically true Voldemort had made him bleed that night. 

“Do you like following a child murderer, are you going to follow in your daddy’s footsteps and get a matching tattoo. Join their club? Are you going to kill-”

The cold eyes of Nott and a wand to the throat shut Harry up, he’d planned to piss him off but now he realised it might have been a mistake. He seemed much more human and less incompetent than Malfoy, Harry was now undecided if he was regretful or happy to have the wand to his throat as he felt the most alive he’d been for hours. 

“You know nothing, Harry Potter.” Nott said slowly in a low and quiet voice as the hollow of his cheekbones and his jaw were taut in tension. 

He let him go as quickly as he’d approached him before flicking his eyes up and down and turning to the door. 

“I’d watch out if I were you.” Nott called out in warning, his back never being completely to Harry as if in fear he might curse him. 

“You.” Harry raised his voice before it trailed off as he tried to think of a witty comeback. “Watch out yourself.”

Yeah, it wasn’t his best.

But he got no response as the door had shut and Nott had left into the dark of the night leaving Harry alone again but not bleeding like before. 

He was going to have to figure out Nott’s cryptic threat and what the hell that had all been about. He’d definitely go mental if Voldemort had told all the junior Deatheaters to be nice to him to freak him out. 

Walking back under the cloak only one thing made sense the world had turned completely upside down. 

———

Listening to the ramblings of a senile old man in a hall the next day at dinner, decked out in black and full of people glaring straight at them like they were on trial was not Theo’s idea of fun. 

He was also having to pointedly ignore the all encompassing stare of Potter on him which he thought was a bit of an over kill. No wonder Draco riled him up so much, he had absolutely no control over his emotions. Staring down at his spoon he had a good mind to grab it walk straight over to the Gryffindor table and gouge his eyes out. He didn’t like being watched. It put him on edge.

“Get a hold of yourself.” Daphne whispered placing a hand on his jolting leg to stop the nerves while Dumbledore made his way to the podium.

“The end.” Said Dumbledore, in his king drawn out voice that grated against his skull. “Of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

The Hufflepuffs raised their goblets, solemn, with wet eyes that only seemed to stare defiantly back at them.They were then joined by the Gryffindors in quick protest, then the Ravenclaws. Slytherins were all that were left but even then they couldn’t deny the character of Cedric, the young man he was. So putting aside any personal politics they stood in solidarity with their fellow Hogwarts students.

The benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory."

A pitiful sob came from Cho. Where was the decorum? Her boyfriend had died, but their was a time and place for such an a outburst of emotion.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

The Slytherins looked amongst themselves in realisation, surely Dumbledore would not say it. Surely it was going to stay an unspoken thing. Saying it brought it to life, gave it power. 

It divided the students, raised suspicion. What was the aim here?

He turned to look at Potter, who was decidedly staring away from Dumbledore. Was the golden boy upset with him? So many questions. He really ought to use a journal, to order them.

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

Draco flinched besides him and the other Slytherins we’re undoubtedly keeping their heads down to avoid eye contact while the rest of hall filled with panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence. 

Theodore could only imagine the damage control that would be done in the Dungeons tonight when the Court was adjourned in this time of crisis. He knew little except whispers and rumours of the group of senior Slytherins at the very top of the hierarchy. Mainly he tried to keep to himself but things were different now.

Everything was different. If power moves were being played he too would have to show his strength. A weak snake was a dead one.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so - either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

The truth, he saw Daphne scoff in front of him she was coming to the same conclusions as him. The truth was neither the black of the Dark Lord or the white of Voldemort it was the gray in the middle. None of the Slytherins parents would be horrified, most of them were already planning on informing their children whether as a means of protection from him or servitude to him. 

Everyone was facing Dumbledore know except for Potter who was staring hotly between the space of him and Draco. Crabbe and Goyle had been muttering something about what was going on and as Draco was explaining he watched Blaise’s face go slightly grey as he bit his bottom lip.

The whole Slytherin table was like a quiet sizzling wire, like one wrong move might set it all alight. 

“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death,” Dumbledore went on. Because he hadn’t done enough. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Potter’s direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore. He looked pale and not demure like he usually was in his embarrassed way when getting accolades. Know he looked tense like he might flip a table at any moment in his anger. It was so difficult to see this boy saviour as a victor when he seemed so damn tortured all the time.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," said Dumbledore. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

He didn’t looked very honoured, he seemed halfway between throwing up and screaming.

The rest of the hall raised the goblet’s to salute them but in a silent protest a proportion of the Slytherins did not, the more radical ones, less neutral. When he saw Potter watching again he placed his hands on the table but deliberately didn’t raise his, leaving the goblet untouched. Potter would not deem them worthy of saving, he didn’t deserve his support.

Dumbledore continued, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened - of Lord Voldemort's return - such ties are more important than ever before."

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table.

Snape was watching on with a detached expression as if he too was unsure why this was proceeding this way. His cool eyes looked over at the students and particularly lingered on the sons and daughters of the death eaters in something as close to pity as Nott believed was capable of.

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief- and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.”

He didn’t have much of a family, but he had his father and the crumbling legacy of House Nott. His father the current Lord old enough to be useless and cruel in the ways only men of a certain generation and privilege had the ability to be, had picked their sides, long ago. 

Discrod would surely spread, but the Dark Lords victory seemed inevitable. Unless Potter was blessed with a gift from the Gods he would be a fool to try to prevent it.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

The whole hall brought their heads down for a minute of silence and remembrance. He was sure that many of them spent that time contemplating how their lives were going to change, fearing for the future, wondering who amongst them would become an enemy.

All Theo could think about was how much of an imbecile he was to preach about right and easy from his podium of self righteousness. He knew nothing of the position he was in, Theo wasn’t misguided or evil. He was smart and he’d hedge his bets on the best way for him and those he cared about to come out of this alive.

The fact Dumbledore thought any of them had a choice, was as deluded as he’d guessed from the man. Slytherins did not turn their back on duty or family.

More good, kind, brave people would die. For it was surely just the beginning?

———

Harry stared at the empty trunk, the damn thing seemed to be mocking him.

The other Gryffindor boys had given him a wide berth and the solemn air surrounding the tower was giving him some breathing room, no one seemed to want to be the first one to speak to him. He could only guess the reasons the others had given this space, Neville was too nice to force him to talk when he clearly didn’t want to, Seamus and Dean had gone off together fairly sure they were discussing what You know who being back would mean. 

Ron, well he was still downstairs with Hermione, probably talking about him. God could he be more self centred. Harry wanted to disappear into the air. When he’d gone to muggle primary school, in order to hide from the larger boys who would beat him up and the girls who would laugh at his too big clothes, he’d read lots of books hidden away in the library.

Books on knights, science, sad girls in towers, football players and little goblins. Some of those things he’d read had even come true but sometimes in all the wrong ways.

One of them had discussed molecules in the air, how they made up everything even humans. He’d been a bit confused by it but it had fascinated him at the same time. Now all that he wished was that the molecules in his body would spread and he’d dissolve into the atmosphere. Was that negative self talk that Hermione had spoke about? What did it matter?

He hadn’t managed to keep the habit when joining Hogwarts what with the constant death threats, quests and mysteries that surrounded him. Maybe he should have at least then he would have been more prepared to deal with what was going on.

With a huff he sat on the his bed, curtains closed and just let his head flop into his hands as he kept his knees up, he couldn’t even comprehend the last few days and the future…

What future? A sneaking voice whispered into his mind, in Dumbledore’s and Voldemorts plans he had to die whether that be as a sacrifice or because of defiance. Twisting a loose thread off his bed sheet he tried not to think about the future that stretched out in front of him like a dark hole far too reminiscent of the cupboard he’d spent his childhood in.

But what options did he have, another stray sob came out of his mouth. God all he seemed to do these days was act pathetic. 

Sniffling he pushed the tears away from his eyes and calmed his breathing down. He had to think. 

Had this all been worth it, that same stupid voice that sounded eerily like himself echoed, they’d given him the brief glimpse into what having a good life could be like before snatching it away each time. All this magic had come with a price. 

And what would dying actually be like, would it be peaceful, painful or just endless nothing. He was a little used to loneliness by now but even this seemed something too immense.

Was it naive to not want to die, selfish even if it saved lives. Maybe he should just go and tell Dumbledore he heard what he’d said and let him explain, surely he was misjudging him. He wouldn’t give Voldemort, who killed his parents, and Cedric so gleefully the pleasure of being the one to do it, but if Dumbledore could guide him. Maybe it would be okay.

God he needed some older, wiser being to tell him what to do. Hadn’t that been Dumbledore, a man he’d trusted in his omnipotence before…well just before, now he barely recognised the man. Was this what war did? Make people act so different, crueller more merciless for an end goal, for the greater good. Or did it just bring out who the person was before?

He needed to leave those questions to smarter people and ones without a ticking expiration date. They all seemed too complex and nuanced for him to even start to deal with.

And Snape, uhh Snape who’d defended him. For what? He wouldn’t get any of Harry’s forgiveness or trust. So what if he didn’t want to send a child to death, he was fairly sure that was the bare minimum, it wasn’t like he was stopping it just admonishing it? What was worse a man who declared someone had to die or the person who disagreed against it and still let it happen. His guilt wouldn’t save him and his weak attempts at protection were useless.

The only thing that kept circling around his mind was how desperately he wished he could speak to his parents, hear what they would have to say. Sirius and Lupin would be the closest things he might get but what if they agreed with Dumbledore.

What if he told them what he’d heard and they hated Harry for disagreeing with it. What if they too told him he should die?

“Harry,” Ron’s voice travelled as he spoke from outside the closed curtains, “can I come in.”

“What?” Harry’s voice cracked embarrassingly, “yeah come in.”

Ron opened the curtain slightly only so much he could get in but no one could see inside before he shut them again and joined Harry on the bed as he sat to the side and kept a slight distance before he gave a half hearted smile.

“Having a tough time packing.” He joked as he gestured with his thumb to the still empty bag, “don’t worry I’ll do it.”

“Ron, no I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” Harry interjected, not wanting to make things worse.

God he couldn’t do anything right, he was a dead weight. 

“Ah nah mate, I wasn’t asking, I already roped Neville in and that house elf of yours he brought up some tarts or something. Hermione called for him I think when you didn’t eat enough dinner.”

“But, I don’t want to cause any trouble?” Harry said half heartedly though the thought that his bag might be packed and people had cared enough to want to be their for him made him feel a little better.

“Well you aren’t, call him and eat. Alright.” Ron ordered in his casual voice but their was a sternness to his face, that if he could say without Ron hitting him reminded him a lot like Molly.

“Alright.” Harry agreed and gave him a small smile.

And Ron in that moment looked so relieved and happy, a small feeling of relief bloomed inside of him and he found himself giving him a hug. This is what he’d be missing, this is what he would have to give up. He didn’t want to die or let Voldemort win and if that meant he would have to fight on his own side at least he knew he’d have friends who he could rely on.

The treacle tart Dobby brought was pretty great too.

———

A silent hush had descended over the common room, Professor Snape had retreated into his office and a stillness surrounded the students unlike anything he’d experienced before.

No one knew what to say, nor where they making large declarations as one would usually see in the common area. Slytherins were renowned for their political prowess and no where was that better learnt than in the snake pit. If Theo really wanted to he could probably begin sussing out people’s opinions, their houses stance, the conspiracy and how the Slytherin Court where handling it. But he did not particularly care.

That was the thing about living in the dungeons so far from the other houses, it was like a separate world as well as a brilliant place to keep a secret. Over the years it had mutated into a particularly efficient eco system, but in order to play you had to go all in. Place a gamble and make a move. The Pit was its own executive landscape, where just like their parents in the wizenmagog and Slytherins before him they made factions, power moves and alliances.

He, Daphne and Blaise had not yet decided where and how publicly they were going to align themselves, it would do no good to be hasty. What did they have yet to offer except servitude to a more powerful player? As figures in their own right they had yet to make any sort of impact or lasting effect. 

Waiting to decide what best action to take was not weak, it was clever. People sometimes forget that being a Slytherin wasn’t just about being power hungry it was also about being cunning and ruthless. Like his father had taught him to be as silent and swift with his actions and the fine side of a sharpened blade. It made a more effective weapon. 

After dropping Daphne at her dorm room he and Blaise walked back to their own dorms going past the common room at the far side of the dungeons.

Theo was only half listening as Blaise rattled on about something to do with the recent news he had heard from his mother, it was interesting but not urgent. Adelina Zabini was a smart enough woman to not put anything valuable on a letter that might be read by someone other than her son, Blaise would have better information once he was home and could speak to her.

“Have you got a response to your letter. You came back late?” Blaise nudged him as they walked down a busier section where a small group seemed to be forming.

“I haven’t got a response,” Theo could only shrug, the possibility his father might not respond was unsurprising and only becoming more apparent.

If Blaise noticed he had ignored the question about why he was so late he hadn’t mentioned anything. Why he hadn't said anything he wasn’t sure, it wasn’t something he wanted to get into at this time. He still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened with Potter, but he was seriously crazier up close and more pensive. So much for being a Gryffindor golden boy.

“Huh, bastard,” Blaise swore as they walked side by side.

“Speaking of bastards, any plans for a new step father.”

Blaise turned and gave an incredulous look that almost made him snort, step fathers, especially the ones his mother managed to acquire were always cocky, powerful and wealthy. As well as having a horribly tragic habit of dying in their honeymoon. The six time widow had a infamous reputation but men kept marrying her even knowing the consequences and she was too powerful to be charged for their unfortunate demises.

Raising his nose imperiously Blaise looked away before a glint of humour appeared in his eyes.

“Yeah he’s called Hector or something a shipping magnate. Ugh.” 

“Poor guy, he proposed yet.” 

“Oh boy,” Blaise whistled shaking his head in sympathy for the idiot, “give him till the end of summer.”

Theo only shook his head and as they walked past the clumps outside the common room and approached the dorm stairs he heard a voice calling out his name from behind him.

“Nott.” A deep voice shouted from inside a far circle of older students.

“Yes.” He replied schooling his face into a nonchalant and bored glare as a defence before he turned to reply to whoever had called out.

Walking towards him alone he saw the figure was Edmund Travers, a tall and imposing fifth year with slicked back black hair and a large muscular frame.

“Should I stick around.” Blaise asked lowly but Theo simply shook his head, whatever this was about to be about was something best to deal with swiftly and alone. 

“Don’t worry Travers and I will just have a nice talk.” He said with a knowing nudge in his eyes before he lightly hit his friends shoulder before walking to face Travers.

“Exactly,” Edmund said placing his hands into his trousers and standing straight with his own disingenuous mask, “shall we go for a stroll, there are a few things necessary to be discussed.”

“Of course,” he replied as diplomatically as possible before he turned on himself and walked again side by side down the abandoned dungeons corridors except this time, not with a friend instead with a potential foe. 

Before they passed in a quiet section to face opposite one another and deal with whatever issue Travers had with him. He was unsure why necessarily, Edmund was a second son to the Lord Travers apparent. The eldest son had already graduated and Edmund was not necessarily Malfoy level of infamy to other houses but he certainly wasn’t quiet with his words or curses and his family followed the Dark Lord same as his. Perhaps it was a personal thing, maybe he liked Daphne and he was looking for an in, but the sharp look in his eyes disavowed any trivial teen topics that might potentially come up.

“I hope I am not inconveniencing you,” Edmund noted looking him up and down with a hard stare that suggested the opposite.

“Of course not,” Theo said unfazed keeping an ease to his body, if things were going to turn south he was going to give no notion when that could possibly be. “May I speak plainly? Why exactly do you need to speak with me now, I had no idea there was anything urgent to discuss.”

“Speak however you’d like,” Edmund said breezily looking slightly to the side like Theo was already boring him. “Things are changing you do understand that don’t you Nott.”

“Of course I do Travers.” Theo replied careful not to be defensive to the condescension coming from Edmund. 

“Good, you always were intelligent weren’t you.” Edmund smiled at that, it was starting. 

“Yes I suppose I am.” He agreed sensing the bait but knowing it was unavoidable to step into.

“Mmm, you’re lucky to have smarts what with your unfortunate situation.” He said with a faux apologetic tone.

“My situation,” Theo retorted with a small snort, “and what do you suppose you are referring to in regards to that.”

“Oh a multitude of things.” Travers tried to brush off.

“No,” Theo stopped him quickly with a tut to himself suggesting to him he was an idiot, “what are those things exactly, if you are kind enough to name, I’d be grateful to hear your opinion. Considering how much smarter you seem to be than you appear.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Travers acknowledged.

“Yes that they can and rumours can be devastating especially ones with no merit.” Theo said smiling straight back at him undeterred.

“Ah but some things aren’t simply rumours Nott, are they.” Travers grinned with a knowing look, “Do you know what they say about you and your father.”

“I can only imagine,” Theo grimaced, he already didn’t like were this conversation was going, “especially with individuals like yourselves speaking in riddles instead of talking forward like a real man, imagine the rumours that could begin from that.”

A hooded emotion crossed Edmunds face, ah a vulnerability but it turned dangerous, the pleasantries were ceasing. Good an angry man was a far more honest one, his father had taught him that.

“Tell me Nott are you simply disowned or exiled I simply can’t remember,” Travers asked rhetorically as the air seemed to become more tense, they were of fairly equal height but he had two years on him and was obviously dancing around the real reason he wished to speak with him, which meant he had to tread carefully. 

“My father is in grieving Edmund surely you can’t fault a man for behaving irrationally.” Theodore said impatiently only in that moment did he realise how isolated the two of them were, far from the dorms and the common room. Edmund had brought him here, why and what was this all about his father?

“Six years is a long time to grieve especially from a man of that nature, in fact he’s become somewhat of a recluse…” Edmund asked in a show of disbelief.

“How is any of this relevant.” Theo interrupted, uncaring now whether he looked weak he simply just did not want to play theses games anymore. 

“I am simply making conversation Theodore,” Travers said with a mocking shake of his head.

“And your father, how is he?” Theo queried in response, “last I had heard Edmund he was having difficulty at the ministry, the rumours you so enjoy suggested he may even lose his job?”

“Ah rumours, blasted things, you must be intimately familiar what with the multitude that spread regarding you” a small huff escaped his mouth before he turned with a smirk, “and I wouldn’t be worried of my own fathers position especially with the recent events that have transpired, our lord rewards those who are loyal, does he not, how fortunate are we?”

“Very.” He replied shortly.

A small laugh escaped Edmund that was completely out of place from the current conversation. 

“You are a very difficult man to read Theodore.” Travers eyed him slightly warier but with an added layer of humour as if he was building up to one grand joke, drawing out his name even without earning the respect to do so.

“Is that a problem?” He asked raising his eyebrow imperiously like he’d perfected with practice over the years.

“Yes,” Travers hissed all humour leaving his face as it turned hard, “you have made your position unclear, no one knows what side you are on if you have even chosen one?”

“And what business is that to you?” Theo wondered aloud not having to add much confusion to his voice as he was genuinely surprised at the turn in conversation.

Travers lent closer now his eyes full of a fury that he wasn’t sure was deserved and his body on the verge of lashing out. 

“Do not try to be clever, you do understand how things are changing. The world order that we live in is finally going to turn back to the old ways and if you aren’t with us you are against us. I would choose a powerful person to submit to.” 

“And you think that someone is yourself.” Theo snorted, Edmund was grossly overestimating his own prowess if he indeed believed that. Notts did not submit, of that he was sure.

He was looking directly at him now, dissecting him deciding if he was worthy. As if he had the right and Theo came to the realisation, Edmund was hungry,he wanted his support or to strike fear into his heart. Well if that’s what he wanted he was not going to get it.

“What have I done to give the opinion I am against you? Why is it you feel as if you have the power to tell me how I should act? A second son to a less powerful House, what right do you have to tell me about the old ways?” Theo spoke slowly observing how with each question, Edmund seemed to lose a little confidence.

“I’d be careful if I was you,” Travers said in a low threatening tone straightening his back, “I have no fear of your fathers retaliation, you are not protected in the same way Malfoy or Crabbe or even Zabini are. If something unfortunate becomes of you it would be remarkably easy to cover up, your social standing withers with the lack of support.”

“My father has taught me enough to know how to deal with men like yourself on my own I do not need him to fight my battles for me, I had no idea that was something a man of your age still needed. If I wanted to retaliate I would not need to ask my father, trust me on this it would not be delicate and done by my own hands.” Theo stated tilting his head to reiterate the seriousness of his claims.

“Is that a threat?” Travers said similarly on edge.

“Oh no,” Theo laughed lightly feeling the weight of the small knife in his pocket, he imagined taking it out and slicing off his tongue. Finally shutting him up. “It’s a promise.”

“No need for bloody resolutions, surely we can be more dignified? I presume your father taught you that much?” Edmund asked though it was clear a bloody resolution didn’t seem to be something he was going to shy away from. 

“You presume too much and worry too little about yourself,” Theo asked dismissively, “enough, speak clearly, you are obviously speaking on behalf of something tell me what it is and get it done with, let us no longer talk around the issue?”

“Your father,” Edmund said for the first time looking slightly uncomfortable and put out, “is old and will be dead soon.”

Oh, a dreadfully inappropriate turn to the conversation. Odd, the idea his father might die didn’t seem natural but he wasn’t in too much shock, his father was remarkably older compared to boys similar in age, his father had him late into his life and he had been in poor health since he could remember, when he was a boy and they still lived with one another.

“I’m sorry to tell you that.” How polite, perhaps they could be cordial. “Though I doubt you would know as you are said to not see one and other.” Or maybe not. 

“My father does not see many people,” Theo noted gritting his teeth, “are you sure this assumption isn’t another rumour that you are so fond to quote as if it were fact.”

“He was their joining my father among our Lords most faithful followers to welcome him back-”

“And you think now is a time, to pounce on me as my house’s remaining heir and how you think my family owes you. When the man my father has always supported has returned, are you simply misguided or arrogant?”

“Neither,” Edmund bit back baring his teeth, “he is unable to take his place beside our Lord and you are too weak to attend to it. You are leaving a power vacuum and the excuse the men your father set aside to get his revenge have been waiting on has opened up. Let me come to you as the first of many, other the years he has made unpopular moves and controversial decisions while shying away from the consequences and now nearing his deathbed he will be leaving it to you. How fortunate do you feel?”

Theo grabbed the collar of his shirt and pushed his against the wall so hard the hit of his head to the surface echoed around the room.

“You are lucky in a way,” Edmund kept speaking even though a few drops of blood where coming from the cut at the top of his head, “he is too old to have another child otherwise he really would have gotten rid of you, he barely needs an excuse now and you are his only heir. Is it because your a bastard or because of the memory of his dead wife.”

Theo tried tried to keep calm, it would do no good to antagonise him more. Edmund clearly had a larger problem with him than he understood and if it was true all that he said he was in more trouble than he could contend with, he did not need to make anymore enemies.

He would have let the argument lay but he had to open his mouth again and added another layer of hurt to his myriad of accusations.

“Tell me,” he whispered viciously, “is it true that your mother was as much of a whore as they say,”

And Theo lost it, he leaped on Travers until the two of them were rolling around on the floors shouts filling the air and their legs tangled up in one another as they tried to hit the other. In both their fury they had disregarded their wands aiming for a more personal punch as the two of them fought to make the other bleed and hurt as much as the words levied as each other had done.

Edmund larger and stronger had grabbed Theo’s arms and held them down but not fast enough as in his left hand he help a silver small blade he was wielding with precision and aiming towards his face in an effort to carve him up.

“Do not speak of her that way,” he panted out.

“It’s a pity with all that brain you are ignorant to common truths,” Travers hissed putting more of an effort to edge away from the blade that kept being blindly being hit towards him but he couldn’t get out it of his hands. “I will not let you leave until I am made aware of your allegiances, you do not yet understand what is needed of you because you have been let to do as you wished for too long.”  

“Are you my father, my brother, my lord?” He asked quickly before kneeing him in the gut which let his hands get free and he placed the blade to his throat. “Do not presume to make yourself someone to answer to?”

The blade was lingering against his throat now, but Travers was not worried. He knew Theo would not be able to kill him, his father would ask for a son in return to his father and the man who had little love for him would do the politically easy decision. Even while holding the knife and having won the fight he was still losing the larger battle.

“Enough,” a familiar voice shouted from the shadows before he was pushed off Travers.

Looking up he saw the disappointed sneer of Professor Snapes face. 

“What is it the two of you think you are playing at,” he said speaking slowly and with his infamous, “your tomfoolery is inappropriate and uneeded.”

Theo tried not to look at Travers, or to think about their fight or their argument. Or how everything seemed to be accelerating all at once.

“Well.” Snape snapped when the two of them had spent two long before they had answered.

Travers got up first and gave a respectful nod to Professor Snape and an apology before Theo got up and did the same.

It did not seem sufficient enough for their Head of House.

“Edmund leave us.” Snape barked out but as Travers walked off gleefully assuming he was out of trouble he was stopped by another shout. “I shall deal with you later.”

Theo kept his head down until the soft hit of a hand against his head made him look up and the disappointed glare from Snape only made him gulp.

“What are you doing Theodore.” Snape regarded him for a moment before he gave a weary sigh.

“I am sorry for acting untoward to another member of our house, it won’t happen again.” He answered dutifully, deliberately not giving him an actual answer.

Slytherins fought a lot among the dungeon halls with words, fists or wands and as long as Snape did not have to deal with it he usually let the natural order continue. But both he and Edmund had caused too large a scene too ignore this time.

“Enough,” he spoke lowly but he seemed to have been more surprised by the scene than annoyed, “you will be returning home tomorrow, do you not think Edmund will inform his father of what has transpired here tonight? How could you act so foolishly, I presumed you had the character to think more clearly on these matters. You are not usually a young man who jumps to such madness.”

“I know,” Theo answered his head hung low, he did not like to hear Snapes disappointment.

He needed no more people to inform him about things he already understood. About how he was in a weaker position compared to his classmates, how his father did not care for him, about the rumours that surrounded him. Why did people feel the need to make him even more aware of obvious things.

“You carry a similar knife to your father.” Snape noted after a prolonged period of silence.

Theo didn’t want to tell him that his father had gifted it to him on his ninth birthday, how it was the last thing his father had given him except an estate to be abandoned in. How when he held it on his hands it brought him a similar comfort to how he imagined a well done might give. He said none of those things of course, he doubted the man liked sentimentality’s.

“Really,” Theo said passively, “what a coincidence.”

“Go to bed Nott, stay out of trouble. I don’t wish to hear anything more about you, understood.” Snape said sternly looking away from him his own dark hooded eyes looking particularly weighed down, and his curled lip more turned down than usual. 

“Yes, sir.” Theo agreed quietly before turning away to walk back to his dorm, out of the corner of his eye in his peripheral vision he saw Snape pause as if he was about to say something else but he didn’t. Instead things just stayed as they were and he walked back alone. 

Entering the dorm room he saw the two great lumbering figures if Crabbe and Goyle in their beds with the curtains half closed as if they had been up speaking to one another and they’d fallen asleep like that.

Draco’s and Blaise’s curtains were both tightly shut so he supposed they must be asleep or wanting some time alone, if it wasn’t so late he would go inside and sit beside either one of them. Bring a book, feel less alone and not mention anything important. 

Of course he didn’t do that, he’d already packed thank Salazar but instead he picked up a plain black journal that was spelled to be private and opened up to a new page with a quill. 

On the inside he wrote two columns, one with questions and the other a list of names. 

The right hand side he would fill up in time but the left hand side had just one name for the moment :

 Edmund Travers

Which he would cross off once he got his revenge. If they wanted him to show himself he would do so with a plan and enough power to destroy those who tried to wrong him or take what was his. If they had disliked how he had behaved before they would hate in turn how he acted if they pushed him too far. 

He would make an example of Travers in time, make it slow and painful, embarrass him publicly which not allow him a moments mercy until he was spluttering apologies which he would refuse in turn. 

———