Chapter 6: Brains, Brawn, or Bluff

They were still laughing themselves shitless lampooning Lily’s voice, and Severus made to reopen the door to curse them out, but Lily tugged his sleeve forward. He cursed them down the empty corridor instead and even got Lily to crack a smile after one particularly creative swear. 

“This one is empty,” Lily said excitedly, sliding open a door several compartments down from the one they abandoned. Sev took the seat across from her and shut the door behind him. He tried to gauge her mood. A moment ago, she had said she didn’t want to talk to him, but those two berks seemed to draw her ire. She was staring out the train window like she had in the previous compartment; this time she seemed more pensive than tearful. He didn’t know what to say and aimlessly stared out the window with her. The train rattled down the tracks as it sped alongside an uninspiring row of trees through who-knows-where. 

They were off to a rough start at Hogwarts. Severus knew two gits hardly represented the whole school or the whole grade, but it would be awkward if he found himself sharing a dorm with that tosser in the fancy black and gray robes. Mum said most families sort into the same house and he said his whole family had been in Slytherin. Now, that other arsehole, the one with the red robes and spectacles who tried to trip him, he was welcome to sort into Slytherin so he could live up to his own words and leave. What a talking turd. 

“What are the other two houses?” Lily asked distractedly. “It’s Slytherin, Gryffindor…Hufflepuff and..?”

“Ravenclaw,” Severus supplied as the door jostled open. An older boy stood in the doorframe, tall and beefy with an upper lip full of peach fuzz. He had a prefect badge pinned to his robes and a mean scowl spread across his mug.

“What d’you pint-sized twerps think yer doing in my compartment?” 

Lily’s face crumpled. Hogwarts was quickly disappointing their expectations. Toby’s words from last night roiled in his head like a damning prophecy. Severus did what he wished he’d done with those lugs in the last compartment. He sprung from his seat and brandished his wand, aiming it directly at the larger teen’s chin.

“Leave us alone, or you’ll find yourself at the end of a hair scalping curse.” 

The teen sputtered. “A-a hair scalping curse? That’s some dark stuff. Threatening a prefect—that’s—that’s—-” He took a step back. Severus’ wand was way more intimidating than a stupid imaginary sword. The prefect drew himself up despite the look of fear on his face. “I’ll take points!” he quivered, voice cracking. “What’s your House?”

“Gryffindor,” Severus deadpanned. He listened impassively as the prefect started subtracting points from Gryffindor House and gloating they would start the year in the negatives. Severus hoped both the wankers from the last compartment got their house preference. His lack of reaction spurred the prefect into redoubling his efforts.

The teen’s threats were drowned out by the sound of rich laughter coming from the corridor outside their compartment. 

“A hair scalping curse! That’s a Slytherin if I ever heard one.” A head of shocking white-blond hair peeked into the room. The new interloper swiveled his head from Lily to Severus, and Severus came face to face with a set of calculating gray eyes. The blond drew himself back into the corridor and the pin on his robes caught the light. So he was a prefect too.

“Foley, these are first years.” 

A dark look settled on Foley’s face as the flustered teen realized he’d been tricked. He shot Severus a dirty look, but addressed his fellow prefect. 

“These two squatters helped ‘emselves to my compartment and that one—” he jabbed his thumb at Severus “—ought to be expelled. Threatening a prefect with a hair scalping curse. It’s not funny, Lucius. Dark stuff.” 

Lucius, as he was called, made an unsympathetic tsk with his tongue and lounged against the doorframe. “Naturally, you feared for your life.” Both prefects turned to look at Severus, who  decided it was a good time to stow his wand away. He sat back down on the upholstered bench on his side of the compartment, arms rigidly at his sides. He wasn’t that much shorter sitting than he had been standing. Across from him, Lily stayed silent and blinked up at the pair of older teens, who were facing each other once more.

“You’re welcome to share the story with McGonagall, but I doubt she’ll let you get beyond the part where you tried to toss two first years from their seats and intimidated one of them into threatening you with the wand he’s had for a week.” 

Foley blanched. Severus felt the tide turning in his favor. 

“By all means, tell her,” Lucius continued silkily. “Not very Ravenclaw though, unless this is a plot to lose your badge.” 

Whatever dread Severus had started to feel about his House preference was gone. This prefect was clearly a Slytherin and the best House representative they met so far. He was spinning circles around the Ravenclaw prefect. If Toby could see this, he’d keel over—middle management being competent. Severus tried not to grin. 

“Sit inside one of the prefect compartments if you’re done patrolling the corridors, or there’s a compartment five doors down with Clara Wu and Iris Somsett.” 

Foley grumbled but seemed to perk up at the name Clara. He left without a fuss, and Lucius waited in the doorway of the compartment until he was gone. Then he turned to the first years with a cool air. His gaze slipped off Lily like oil on water and lighted on Severus.

“Your name is?” 

“Severus.” Lucius looked at him like he missed a beat. “Snape,” he added awkwardly.

“Snape,” Lucius repeated, popping the penultimate letter. Severus couldn’t make out his expression before Lucius scrubbed it away with a welcoming smile. “I’ll see you in Slytherin, Severus. Enjoy Hogwarts, you two.”  

The door clicked shut and Severus noticed Lily looking at him with awe and excitement. “Whoa! You know a hair-scalping curse!” She was impressed. It was like she never saw him wearing Mum’s old smock or knew him as the boy who lived on Spinners End. This was the type of reaction he had hoped for when he informed Lily he was a wizard, but better. Hogwarts was going to be a fresh start. 

“Nah, I made that up to get him off our backs.” He smiled at her, but she instantly deflated, her admiration gone. “But I do know some spells!” Severus said quickly. He felt himself standing on sand. “I could teach you!”

Lily eagerly agreed, forgetting all about the two dunderheads from the last compartment and her nasty sister against the thrill of magic. He taught her Lumos and Nox, which she mastered quickly. Then the unlocking charm, which took her more time to work through but she perfected soon enough. He was debating whether he should teach Lily the jelly-legs jinx next—whether it was worth playing test dummy for her if he didn’t know the counter-spell—when there was a polite rap on the door.

“Trolley,” rasped the fakest little old lady voice Severus had ever heard. He was about to tell Lily not to fall for it, but she had already opened the door. To his surprise, it really was a little old lady standing out in the corridor and pushing a cart piled high with sweets. His stomach grumbled. Mum had told him the Hogwarts Welcoming Feast was so grand, it was better to arrive hungry, but that felt like something she said because they didn’t have money lying around. He tried to look at the bright side—the trolley usually came at half-way. He didn’t have that long to go before food was piled high atop the house tables and he could eat his fill. 

“Anything off the trolley, dears?” the witch smiled kindly. Lily’s eyes sparkled and she rummaged in her bag to free her coin purse, a fat little frog charmed to grow rounder with every added Galleon. She was examining the goods and picking up whatever looked appealing to her, asking the witch for suggestions to the old woman’s delight.

“Er. Nothing for me, thanks.” 

“Are you sure?” Lily asked, turning to him. “Pick something out, Sev. My treat,” she offered, lifting her coin purse. A second denial was on the tip of his tongue. He couldn’t take money from her.

“Are you Severus Snape?” The witch asked, rummaging through a little drawer in the cart as he nodded. “One of the prefects left me money for you. Nice young man that Lucius Malfoy.” She smiled again. 

For a moment, Severus stared at her dumbly. That older student paid for his sweets. He tentatively reached for a treacle tart. “Thanks.”

“Take more, dear.”

He took another two mince pies, a bag of black licorice wands, and a chocolate frog box, gauging the witch’s face after each new item. Her smile never wavered. When he reassured her that was all he wanted, she reached into her change purse and pulled out so many coins Severus had to put his treats on the seat and hold two hands open to receive them. Silver Sickles and Bronze Knuts clanged together as they poured into his cupped hands. He had money. He never had money in his life. Toby barely trusted him with 5 shillings to buy his fags. He didn’t even have a coin purse to put this in. He split the lot between his robe pockets, which now jingled when he moved. They felt heavy. In the Muggle world, you’d carry paper notes, but rich wizards were loaded down with Galleons. That was a feeling to get used to. Course, he’d have to give the change back to Lucius Malfoy. He looked behind him and wished he hadn’t gone overboard with the extras. As nice as Lucius seemed, Severus didn’t want to start his school year out owing favors. 

As the trolley witch continued down the corridor, Severus felt something small thump onto the back of his head and crawl forward through his hair. He pulled a wriggling chocolate frog off the top of his head, a strand of long, black hair coming loose with it. Lily hadn’t caught her frog in time. He broke the back legs off the chocolate animal so he wouldn’t have to worry about it hopping again. He frowned. He didn’t want to waste food, but that locomotion charm was manky. He broke off the front legs too. If this were a real frog, he’d use all its parts, but he wouldn’t be eating it either. 

“I’ll have this one, and you can have mine,” he said, gesturing to his box. 

Lily didn’t look up. She was mesmerized by the moving picture on her chocolate frog card and read the back aloud. 

“Charlie Bucket. This young wizard earns the distinction of having the very first Chocolate Frog Card ever created. Charlie entered the Chocolate Frog Company after his Hogwarts graduation and died tragically inside one of the chocolate vats. In an effort to memorialize his memory, the first ever Chocolate Frog Card was born. Today, little witches and wizards everywhere delight in collecting the hundreds of Chocolate Frog Cards that followed. May his sacrifice never be forgotten.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” Severus said around a mouthful of frog.

Lily pulled a face. “That’s so lame. Imagine all you’re remembered for is dying.” She turned the card around so Severus could see it. Its moving picture was rather morbid, showing a set of flailing limbs encased in chocolate—probably a depiction of Bucket’s last moments in the vat. Kind of pathetic actually.

He shrugged. “Maybe inspiring the Chocolate Frog Card Collection is the greatest thing he could’ve done with his life.”

Lily shot the picture a scathing look. “He didn’t even come up with the idea! The best he did was inspire someone else.”

“Give the bloke a break, Lily. He’s dead.”

“Who’d you get?” Lily asked, ignoring his comment. 

Severus opened his own Chocolate Frog Box carefully so Lily could catch the frog before it hopped away. She grabbed it half-heartedly, staring after the box in his hands as her squirming frog melted between her palms. 

“Well?”

Severus came face to face with a moving picture of Albus Dumbledore. So this was what the famous Hogwarts Headmaster looked like. He studied the old wizard’s silver beard and blue eyes twinkling from behind half-moon spectacles. 

“Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragons blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.”

“Now that’s a card!” Lily exclaimed. She practically had stars in her eyes. Severus knew she liked the Headmaster ever since he wrote a letter to her sister, but now she seemed to idolize him tenfold. “You wouldn’t be looking to trade, would you?” she asked wryly, casting a glum look to her own card. 

His eyes lit up. There were preciously few opportunities for Severus to have something someone else wanted. “You can keep it,” he said, handing her his Dumbledore card and declining Charlie kicked-the-Bucket. “I wasn’t planning on starting a collection anyway.” He remembered how cross Lily had been after Professor Frothmore wouldn’t let her buy anything too magical to keep in her Muggle house. He had no need for moving wizarding pictures he’d hide under his bed or between his books. He only got a chocolate frog for the novelty of it. He doubted he would be buying more.

Lily looked chuffed. “I can’t believe he’s the Headmaster of our school!” she gushed, grinning down at Dumbledore’s picture. She might’ve gazed at Dumbledore for the rest of the train ride if he hadn’t decided to wander out of the card’s frame. Lily pocketed the card reluctantly and turned to the other treats she had purchased. 

“Want one?” Lily asked, holding out her bag of Every Flavor Beans. She was chewing a bean she had popped into her mouth and Severus, watching her face contort into a grimace, held off on taking one. She made a motion like she was gonna throw up.

“What’d you get?” he asked as Lily looked around with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, searching for a sweet to scrape the aftertaste off. All her treats were wrapped in boxes. He offered Lily his bag of black licorice but she shook her head.

“Black licorice,” she gagged, reaching for a second bean. She made a new face of horror half way into chewing. “Black licorice again,” she mouthed. What were the odds? She reached into the bag to take third chance. Lily winced, but shrugged as she chewed.

“Better?” he asked, chewing into his own black licorice wand with a grin. 

“A little. This one might be ear wax.” 

Severus laughed. “Nice palate cleanser.” 

Lily waggled her eyebrows. “I should find you a palate cleanser too.” She jokingly made a face at his licorice wands.

They ate a few more sweets in comfortable silence, Severus digging into his tart and Lily boldly sticking with her bag of flavored beans, her face cycling through a kaleidoscope of flavors. Then Lily broke the spell.

“Don’t you think that was weird?” Lily asked with a thoughtful expression. “With that prefect before? The second one,” she clarified at Severus’ confusion. “It’s like he didn’t notice I was in the compartment.” She scrutinized a dark red bean the color of her hair before popping it into her mouth and smiling approvingly as she chewed. 

“He did though,” Severus said quickly, replaying the events in his head. He knew what it was like to have people act like he didn’t exist when he and Lily were together, or get aggressive with him, like they thought he must be some creep following Lily around because there was no way she’d willingly be his friend. It was a rotten feeling. “He definitely mentioned you twice.” 

It was true Lucius Malfoy hadn’t asked Lily her name, only Severus, but then again he hadn’t exactly made introductions. The other prefect—Foley—let his first name slip. It must’ve been an oversight, Severus decided. It felt way less malicious than those boys who left Lily hunched in the corner of the last compartment and ignored her while she cried.

Severus suspected Lily was still expecting life to be how it was back in Cokeworth, where people could pick him out as a slum kid a mile off. But in the wizarding world, they were on equal footing. By some stroke of luck, he’d just caught Lucius’ attention, was all. 

It was dark when the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Those first memories of Hogwarts were blurred into chiaroscuro. They took boats across the black lake, marched through the dark corridors in their black school robes, and entered into the Great Hall flooded by the light of hundreds of floating candles and a ceiling of twinkling stars. The Sorting Ceremony started with the Founders’ hat singing a song; he had been too nervous to pay attention to the lyrics. Professor McGonagall had told them sorting would be alphabetical, and the first few students already began joining their Houses.

“Evans, Lily!”

Severus smiled at Lily encouragingly as her name was called. She shakily made her way to the stool at the front of the Great Hall. The second the Sorting Hat touched her dark red hair, it shouted, “Gryffindor!” in the fastest sorting yet. He let out a tiny groan. Of all the rotten luck! Professor McGonagall must have been as surprised as he was because Lily took off her own hat and handed it to the professor, hurrying towards the table of cheering housemates. She glanced back at him with a sad little smile on her face. He tried to mirror it though the corners of his mouth fell in the opposite direction. 

They wouldn’t be in the same House. 

Somehow, in the two years between meeting Lily and this moment, he had never once imagined them being separated. He had recognized it as an abstract possibility, but, naively, he always believed they would overcome the odds. Usually he had imagined them in Slytherin together, occasionally he pictured the pair in Ravenclaw if something went wrong. This disappointment hit him raw and gnawed at him as the minutes ticked by, to the point where it overshadowed his ability to concentrate on anything else. It felt like forever by the time his own name was called. He closed his eyes as he felt Professor McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on his head. 

A voice pulled through his thoughts. “Hmm…What have we here?” 

It’s reading my thoughts with Legilimency, he thought with amazement. He figured that’s how kids were being sorted when he saw how the hat was placed on other kids, but it was another thing entirely to experience a second presence in his own head. This had to be one of the most extraordinary branches of magic out there.

“What a mind.” The foreign voice in his head spoke with an edge. It reminded him of Mum during her better days, her every word laced with sarcastic undertones. He’d been six with a toe in the riverbank when he asked Mum what would happen if he couldn’t learn to swim, and Mum didn’t miss a beat. You’d save me the cost of a burial, a priest, and a plot.A lady nearby got so offended she told Mum she shouldn’t have a kid. Dull lives made sharp tongues. Sev imagined a thousand years of this stuff got dull even if you were a headpiece. “You know everything, don’t you?”

He wanted to.

“Tell me, Severus. Would you spend your whole life in a library?”

That was a joke question. No one would spend their whole life in a library, not anyone serious about learning. Libraries were useful, but you’d have to sort through all the inapplicable knowledge and the expired knowledge, and they were short on the kind of knowledge that interested Severus best, unknown knowledge—the stuff he’d piece together from trial and error, from cross-referencing, from asking questions no one thought of before.

The Hat hummed approvingly, but because it was only in his head, he experienced it like a rumble through his body. If he didn't know he was interacting with an incredibly powerful charmed object, he would believe he was in the presence of a purring cat with a canary stuffed in its mouth.   

“Yes, I know where to put you. I can see it now. You’ll do well in Slytherin…achieve your ends, make lifelong friends.”

At the mention of friends, Severus thought of Lily. His friend was in Gryffindor with both of those asshats from the train. He’d sleep in a dorm with those two if it meant Lily’d have someone to watch her back.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” the hat said with amusement. Severus had forgotten that it could hear him think. With a jolt, he realized he and Lily technically hadn’t been separated yet. “It takes great courage to sleep among your enemies. Perhaps some cynics would call it great foolishness. You’ve got guts. Yes, you have the courage for Gryffindor…it’s lack of loyalty that holds you back.”

The hat couldn’t see him scowling at it. Loyalty was overrated. Where had Mum’s loyalty to Toby gotten either of them? Would he have to spend his seven years at Hogwarts in misery and self-sacrifice just to prove his friendship? He dreamt of Slytherin long before he ever met Lily. 

“What do you want from Hogwarts, Severus?” This was the nicest tone the Sorting Hat had mustered and it still didn’t reach the honey-sweetness of the trolley witch. 

I want to be a great wizard, he thought.

“Then you’ve taken your first step on the path to greatness. Great trials await you, great tribulation, great triumphs, and great temptation. You’ll achieve your greatness in…

“SLYTHERIN!”

Severus opened his eyes to applause as McGonagall whipped the Sorting Hat off his head. He hopped off the stool and made his way to the cheering Slytherin table, happy to have his mind to himself again. Was that hat always so bloody cryptic or had he put it on the moment it was itching for second song number? He hardly registered sitting down next to Lucius Malfoy, who patted him on the back. It was just a hat.   

He smiled to himself. He made it. He was in Slytherin. 

“Taffe, Jacob!” McGonagall called. 

Severus tapped Lucius’ shoulder. He had to raise his voice so the prefect could hear him. “Was I under there for a long time?”

“No, average.” 

Lucius turned his attention back to the Sorting and Severus, anxiety gone, followed his gaze. The sorting went much faster when you weren’t waiting for your own name to be called. Before long, Wilkes went to Slytherin and Yang to Hufflepuff and the Feast began.

With a disappointed pang, Severus thought of Lily. He wished she could be in Slytherin with him. He thought he’d been sad about trading in the brass cauldron, but this felt so much worse. He searched for her across the Great Hall, spotting her at the Gryffindor table. She was talking animatedly to another redheaded girl whose hair was much lighter than her own. She looked like she was having fun. He brightened as he felt that sense of guilt from not insisting the Hat place him with Lily lift off his shoulders. Slytherin was where he wanted to be.

He was being thick. His friendship with Lily wasn’t over just because they sorted into different Houses. They wouldn’t share all their classes, their dining tables, or a common room, but they could still see each other every day. They lived in the same castle! They were closer now than they were in Cokeworth. It’s not like some rule existed against having more than one friend.

The Hat had promised him friends in Slytherin and he turned back to his table to make some. Directly across from him sat a boy with tight blond ringlets, who was staring at the Gryffindor tablewith the same confusion and dismay that had played out on Severus’ face a second ago. Maybe this kid was in the same boat he was? There were probably a bunch of friends the sorting had split up. Severus figured he’d introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m—”

“You’re disgusting,” sneered a voice to his right and Severus tensed. This was the train ride all over again. When he looked past his curtain of dark hair, he was both relieved and surprised to see that the speaker hadn’t been talking about him. 

The dark skinned boy sitting to his right was glaring at a broad-shouldered boy across the table, who was devouring his chicken drumsticks by hand. 

“I’m starved, Avery. I didn’t have anything to eat on that train,” the boy said between mouthfuls, shaking a chicken bone at Avery as he spoke. He was easily the tallest first year by far, to the point where he could have passed for a third year. He wore his dark brown hair pulled into stubby ponytail, and Severus was close enough to notice his eyes were sea-bottle green. “What are you staring at?” The boy was looking at Severus now. 

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” sniffed another first year further down the table. “Of course people are going to stare.” 

That was Wilkes. Severus remembered him as the last kid to sort into Slytherin. He had wedged himself between Avery and the three Slytherin girls, and Severus got the impression he had been waiting for his chance to jump into the conversation. The brown-haired, button-nosed boy turned to Avery with an ingratiating voice and introduced himself. “Linus Tiberius Wilkes,” he said, sticking out his hand. No one paid him any mind. 

“That’s a mouthful,” Mulciber muttered.

Wilkes hadn’t taken the hint. He used his hovering hand to lift the nearest pitcher of pumpkin juice, which he poured into Avery’s half-empty goblet. To Avery’s credit, he looked on at the display in distaste. “I thought the Averys don’t associate with families outside of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.” Wilkes’ words sounded fishing and not judgmental, as if he were trying to size up his own standing.

“Our fathers go way back,” Avery explained. He and Mulciber grinned as if exchanging a secret. “Old school friends. Rosier’s a family friend too.” Avery directed his next words back to Mulciber. “I’m still shocked you two never met.”

At the sound of his name, the blond across from Severus snapped his head round. 

“Rosier, this is Mulciber,” Avery said as the two boys came face to face.

“Evan,” he nodded, swiping his curly hair out of his eyes. “So you’re Mulciber. My grandfather told me not to speak to you.” He grinned slyly. 

“Good luck with that.” Mulciber laughed. “We’re going to be sleeping in the same room together for seven years.”

Evan lost some of his earlier melancholy. He leaned over the table to see the faces further down.

“Wilkes, right?” Evan politely asked the boy with light-brown hair, who smiled back at him. He shifted to Severus. “And you’re…?”

Severus learned from his introduction to Lucius. “Severus Snape.”

“Snape? That’s not a wizarding name,” Avery said pointedly. It was like a chill descended upon the once-warm atmosphere. The other first years stared at him, including the three first-year girls at the end of the table. Whatever confidence he gained under the Sorting Hat vanished faster than it came.

“My mum’s a witch,” Severus mumbled, but he might as well have announced outright that his father was a Muggle by the way his housemates were looking at him.

“Your mother’s a blood traitor?” one of the girls asked from down the table, her nose wrinkling. Her words held the same tone as Petunia Evans’ when she picked him out as the boy who lives on Spinner’s End, except she was so loud the whole table must have heard her.

Severus was saved from answering. As soon as he opened his mouth, the sound of Lucius Malfoy’s voice cut through the air.

“First years this way,” he called, and Severus was first to leave the table. 

He kept his head down during the walk to the dungeons, but he still noticed how quickly his housemates paired up. Avery and Mulciber already knew each other. Rosier and Wilkes bonded over Quidditch. They turned out to be big Arrows fans and fell into a discussion Severus couldn’t follow. The three girls all chatted together. From the sound of their conversation, they met for the first time at the Feast, but they already seemed to form a clique. Slytherin seemed a great House to make friends for everyone except him. The only person who seemed approachable so far was the prefect. Severus’ eyes darted towards Lucius at the same time Evan called his name. 

“Lucius, why did we leave so early? We skipped out on pudding,” Evan said. 

“You’ll have whatever you want in the Common Room.” Lucius waved his hand. “Slughorn wants to meet you.”

“Old Sluggy cut out early too?” Avery asked. 

“I was supposed to meet my sister,” Wilkes said with concern. A small crease briefly crossed Lucius’ bemused brow. “She’s in Hufflepuff.”

“That explains so much about you, Linus Tiberius.” Avery snickered, but Lucius ignored Mulciber’s quip. 

“You’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Lucius said. He turned towards the three girls and introduced himself. “Lucius Malfoy, sixth year prefect.”

“How come one of the seventh years isn’t taking us down? Mary Pike.” That was the girl who had called his mother a blood traitor. 

“Neither one of them wants to bother during NEWT year. I suggest you come to myself or the other sixth year Slytherin prefect if you need anything. You’ll meet her soon.”

The other two girls began whispering to Pike. 

“Pay attention,” Lucius called. “The walls all look the same.” Eight pairs of eyes tracked Lucius intently as he guided them through a maze of turns and stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall identical to any other. 

“Fidite Nemini.” 

The stones parted into a doorway that opened to a long, low room bathed in green light from the huge windows that faced the lake. Severus expected the water to be dark at this time of night since the sun had set in the sky, but it was teeming with luminous fish and plant life, which cast a dim glow into the room. He stared transfixed at a constellation of freshwater shooting starfish walking against the window glass so slowly that they looked like a dancing galaxy. Gilded portraits and elaborately woven tapestries hung on the walls. Ornate green lamps hung from the ceiling. Every piece of furniture had a gleam to it, like stepping into a crystal cavern.

“Welcome! Welcome to Slytherin!” 

Severus was so captivated by the Common Room, he didn’t notice the portly man taking up an armchair in front of the fire. He had seen his Head of House at the staff table, though he hadn’t known it at the time, and was surprised the large professor managed to sneak out of the Great Hall without attracting any attention. 

“Braxton, m’boy.” Slughorn rose from his seat and shook Avery’s hand. “It’s been too long, but I suppose your father is so busy running the Department of International Cooperation, he has no time for social calls.” Avery smoothly answered to the affirmative and Slughorn moved on, skipping over a few faces in the lineup. 

“Evan,” he crooned. “Narcissa and Andromeda told me their cousin would be here. Well, cousins. Let’s not pretend this was what we were expecting.” Evan’s smile wiped off his face. His expression looked pained as Slughorn clapped him on the shoulder. “Shocking news about Sirius. A Black not sorting into Slytherin. Simply shocking. Not to worry, m’boy.” 

Severus figured he knew who they were talking about. Slughorn pivoted from Evan’s forlorn face with the carefree nature of a child who stomped on a crawling butterfly. 

“Oho. Ohoho!” Slughorn captured the crown jewel of his collection. Only one girl caught his eye, a truly diminutive child, who must’ve been the shortest person in the school. “Miss Bhatar! The pleasure is mine!”

The girl answered with a noticeable accent. When she shook Slughorn’s hand, her many golden bracelets jangled. 

The first years all sat down on the leather sofas circling the fireplace. Lucius hovered behind them. “Harris Mulciber, Severus Snape, Linus Wilkes, Mary Pike, and Agrippina Pallsworth,” he said, listing the names Slughorn didn’t pick out. If it was for Slughorn’s benefit, the professor didn’t notice. Wilkes looked like they were issued some grave injustice while Mulciber began helping himself to the spread of puddings laid out on the table, as content to ignore Slughorn as Slughorn seemed ignoring him. 

Lucius leaned down between Wilkes and Bhatar. “The boys’ dormitory is to your left, at the very bottom of the stairwell. The girls’ dormitory is supposed to be the second door down the stairwell on the right.” This professor couldn’t be trusted to manage anything, could he? Lucius straightened up. “I’m going back to the Feast, sir,” he told Slughorn.

“Thank you, Lucius,” Slughorn said jovially, wiping some cream from the broad whiskers of his mustache. “You take care of things out there. The House is yours!” 

Lucius’ smile stretched so thin it seemed sharklike. Severus had a good guess who really ran Slytherin. 

Slughorn’s first-year meet-and-greet was really a social hour for the three people he knew—or, in Arushi Bhatar’s case—wanted to know. Her father was North India’s ambassador to wizarding Britain, except wizarding Northern India was called Jumbudvipa because purebloods didn’t recognize Muggle India. Slughorn had visited many times and raved about its fashion, its food, and its Ministry, which endeared him to Arushi, She and the walrus-shaped professor became fast friends. 

“And we have four magical cities, all bigger than Hogsmeade, each with their own wizarding school!” Arushi explained. She was a snob, but a very good storyteller, and the meeting would have been boring without her talking. Wilkes asked her a lot of questions, and whenever Slughorn tried to field Arushi’s responses to Avery, as the son of the Head of International Cooperation, Arushi and Avery didn’t play to his design. After it happened a fourth time, Slughorn resigned himself to the pattern with the manner of someone who realized the futility of herding cats with a dogwhistle. Severus wondered if there was bad blood between North India’s ambassador and Britain’s Head of International Cooperation. She and Avery seemed frosty to one another. 

“We’ll stop here for tonight,” Slughorn announced with a clap of his hands. “I’ll see you all in Potions class. My office is always welcome to you.” His last sentence was clearly directed to three of the eight of them, and it was impressive Slughorn managed to keep the invitation so private and exclusive when Arushi, Avery, and Evan sat no where near each other. Severus couldn’t believe this was his Potions teacher. Let Slughorn teach something useless like History of Magic, not one of the subjects he cared about. 

“I’ll visit you tomorrow, Professor!” Arushi said, waving her arms so fervidly, her bracelets played a jingle. “I’ll bring Mary and Agrippina.” 

Slughorn’s face fell. Whether Arushi said it out of generosity or because she was cunning enough to stay in the good graces of her only roommates, the other two girls seemed to genuinely appreciate the sentiment. They departed down one stairwell while the five boys headed in the opposite direction. Wilkes practically raced down to the dormitory. 

“If any of you have a cat, it’s getting sent home tomorrow,” Avery called from the back of the group. Severus was in the middle, close enough behind Wilkes and Evan to get a view of the room when the door was first opened. Sure enough there was a cat sitting on one of the beds, but it proved to be Avery’s own. He had been concerned his precious pet would need to share. 

“Tivali, did you miss me,” he cooed in a baby voice to the cat. 

“If you’re going to snog your cat, Avery, do it behind the privacy of your own curtain,” Mulciber said. The rest of the boys snickered. Their trunks had been arranged at the foot of random beds, but the other boys were picking their own. Avery took the one his cat lounged on, Mulciber, one counterclockwise, Severus, on the opposite side of the door from Mulciber, Evan next to Severus, and Wilkes, between Evan and Avery, completing the circle. They dragged their trunks into place accordingly. Severus’ trunk was the dingiest, but it had been in front of Mulciber’s bed and Mulciber didn’t comment, which Severus appreciated after what happened at the Great Hall. 

“Hey, Avery. What do you think about Sirius Black sorting into Gryffindor?”

Avery shrugged. “Not exactly a surprise. He’s neither cunning nor ambitious.”

“He was under the Hat for awhile.” When Avery didn’t respond to this, Evan continued, “Do you think we should go talk to him?”

“No.” Clearly Avery didn’t have the capacity to coddle anyone except his cat. Evan flopped on his bed like a kicked puppy.

“He’s not a different person just because he sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Exactly,” Avery snorted. His voice was cold. “He’s the same person he’s always been. Talk to Sirius if you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”  

“What do you mean, warn him?” Wilkes asked breathlessly. He wasn’t kidding about being from a Hufflepuff family. His socks were bright yellow. “The Blacks are dark, aren’t they?”

“The Blacks are nutters,” Mulciber cut in.

“My cousins are Blacks,” Evan said defensively. 

“Alright, your cousins are nutters,” Mulciber shrugged. An argument was on the verge of breaking out when Avery took control of the room with a measured tone.

“The Black family has a history of mental instability and violence, separate from their affinity for the Dark Arts. It passes through the family like a blood curse, present in every generation—not in all members, but laying dormant in the blood.” Both Evan and Mulciber looked ready to pounce in with their own interjections, so Avery rushed his conclusion. “Sirius’ Mum set my house curtains on fire!” It was rather anticlimactic. 

“They paid your parents back, didn’t they?” Evan said pointedly, but even he realized it was a weak argument that proved Avery’s point.

Severus drew the curtains around his bed and shut himself out of the conversation. He figured if they were going to be talking about one of the wankers from the train compartment the whole night, they weren’t worth talking to.

Even though he had to share his sleeping quarters with four others, his new dormitory was leagues nicer than his bedroom back home. Here the sheets were crisp and white, the mattress free of lumps and poking springs, and, best of all, there was no drunk to drag him out of bed and smack him around. Behind the privacy of his drawn curtains, Severus buried his face into the feather-soft pillow…but still secondhand, he reminded himself, eying a notch in the wood over the pillow-top. He moved his pillow away from the headboard to survey the damage. Some arsemonger had taken it upon himself to carve his name into the wooden bed frame. Severus traced the letters. T-O-M. Ugly and crude. Since they hadn’t been removed with magic, they must have been scored by the kind of nutter who owned one of those cursed knives. Severus leaned closer. The letters hadn’t been carved after all, but appeared burned into the wood with a flame so hot and so precise, it looked like a carving. What had Tom been trying to do, light his bed on fire? The bed’s previous occupant must have been a rich ponce with more money than brains. Severus bet that he was out of a job right now, if the plonker even got hired after graduation. 

Severus fell asleep by accident. When he woke up, the curtains were drawn around every other bed in the dorm, and no light was coming through the windows. He tried to gauge what time it was. Wilkes had a clock on his night table. It was only midnight. He opened his trunk to pull out his nightshirt when he felt his pockets clink heavily. That’s right. He still had Lucius’ money. He should have returned it earlier when he had the chance. He didn’t even know which of the doors in the stairwell led to Lucius’ room.

Midnight wasn’t so late. He wondered if anybody would be up in the Common Room. He crept up the stairwell, the lights from the sconces casting a huge shadow on the wall. There were a dozen or so students spread out through the spacious room, most of them scattered by the windows facing the lake. A merperson was behind one of the glass panels! A very dedicated girl was sitting cross-legged on the floor with two sets of open books, trying to communicate with them through the glass with hand signals. Severus found Lucius in a quartet of older students by the fire. Two very pretty girls were with him and boy in Quidditch robes, though why he was wearing them outside of Quidditch season was beyond Severus’ guess. He looked younger than Lucius, maybe the same age as the blonde girl. It was hard to tell. 

He was tempted to turn back and catch Lucius at another time, but the coins jingled in his pockets. The longer he waited, the more likely he was to lose one and then he’d owe Lucius more money, which he had no way of paying back. As he got closer to the four, he heard them discussing Sirius Black. Honestly, didn’t people in this school read books? He couldn’t fathom what made the bellend who considered Snivellus clever worth talking about. He padded to the edge of the ring of light from the fireplace, close enough to get a good look at the girls’ faces, which were so similar they had to be related, though one had pin-straight blonde hair and the other, curly brown hair, when the door to the Common Room parted open. Every head turned to the figure that stalked towards Lucius. 

It was Evan Rosier. What had he been doing out after curfew on his first night as a first year?

There was a collective gasp from the group as he neared. 

“Good heavens! Evan, who did this?”

“Who do you think,” Evan challenged angrily, wiping at his eye. Severus thought he might have been crying, but when he pulled his arm back, a streak of disgusting yellow pus was visible on his sleeve. 

“You know, Bella did the the same thing to me when I was your age. It was my birthday,” the older, brown-haired teen said ruefully. 

“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I could curse him for you,” the Quidditch player offered. 

“Rabastan, don’t you dare.” 

“Here, you want to do something?” Evan said, digging into his pockets. “You can give him his stupid mirror back!” Evan thrust something out of his pocket towards the pretty blonde and stomped off. Both girls exchanged concerned frowns and followed after him, leaving Lucius and the Quidditch player alone in front of the fire. They hadn’t noticed him nearby.

“Uh, hi,” Severus said. 

“Oh, bullocks. Someone misses home,” Rabastan muttered, rolling his eyes. “Lucius, start singing your lullaby.” Severus scowled his way. He wished he knew a hair-scalping curse for real and glared at the older boy’s back as he departed for the dormitory. 

“You don’t miss home, do you?” Lucius asked curiously. 

“Uh, no,” Severus scoffed. “I forgot to give you back your change from the Trolley Cart. Er—thanks.” He began laying the coins from his pockets on the table. Lucius looked at him with a ghastly expression as though Severus really did ask him if he could sing a lullaby. 

“You keep this,” Lucius insisted with an air of disgust aimed at the pile. “Severus, I never carry Sickles.” 

For a minute, Severus simply stared. He couldn’t imagine the sort of charmed life Lucius led that made him so woefully out of touch with average prices. He was pretty sure there were enough Sickles here to make a Galleon. Lucius was turning down a fancy new quill, or an ounce of dragon liver, or a new book, or seven jars of stag beetles. 

Lucius picked up a tiny bronze coin and marveled at it. “You know, I forgot they made these. I’d make a joke about carrying Knuts, but you need to wait a few years to hear it.”

Severus let out a stream of swear words that drew every head in the room.

“Merlin’s beard, Severus—”

“Merlin’s hairy ballsack. I’m eleven, not five.” He crossed his arms when he threw himself into an armchair, somewhat ruining the effect. Lucius was looking at him curiously. Severus was looking at the pile of coins on the table. “Thanks for…what you did during the Feast. And back in the train compartment.”

Lucius cut across his inelegance. “Severus, I’m a prefect. It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.”

Severus’ eyes were looking anywhere except at the person in front him. He spotted a dragonhide book bag, which could only belong to Lucius, on the floor near the sofa and Libatius Borage’s Advanced Potion Making peeking out of its flap. He had a brilliant idea to solve all his problems. “Well, thanks, and to pay you back, I could help you with Potions.” He yanked the copy off the floor.

Lucius looked annoyed now, the little restraint he had left seemed directed into keeping himself from snatching his textbook out of Severus’ hands. “Severus, I assure you, despite anything you may have heard, I am in Slughorn’s NEWT class because I am good at Potions.” 

Severus was flipping through the pages of the book, looking for a potion early enough in the curriculum he could help with. He read Mum’s copy of Advanced Potion Making at home, and while he had a good sense that Libatius Borage’s work could use improvements, the textbook was still way too advanced for him. He found what he was looking for, the Draught of the Living Death. 

“Here,” he practically shoved the open book in Lucius’ face. “If you want a better potion than the book will give you, try adding a clockwise stir when you’re getting the potion to turn lilac. After you add the Valerian brine from your beaker. Don’t overdo it, though.”

Lucius shot him a dirty look, but quickly scanned the instructions in front of him. Feeling lighter, Severus decided to go back down to his dorm and go to sleep. By now, enough time passed that he’d avoid the awkwardness of running into an angry Evan Rosier. He scooped up Lucius’ unwanted change and turned back to the dorms.

“Wait. How many counterclockwise stirs in do I add a clockwise rotation?” Lucius asked suspiciously. 

Severus shrugged. He was in such a good mood, he couldn’t keep the mocking tone out of his response. “I don’t know. You’re good at Potions.” 

❀

Nearly a third of the girls in the school wore a hairstyle Lily termed ‘the unicorn.’ It was an elongated, almost conical topknot at the front of the head that was in vogue because of some singer Lily had never heard of. She had never seen anything more ridiculous in her life and considered writing Tuney about it before she remembered Petunia had called Hogwarts a special school for freaks and weirdos on the train platform.

Her new roommates seemed nice. There was Mary, whom she knew from the shopping trip to Diagon Alley, Nichola, whose sharp bob seemed way too businesslike for eleven, and two blonde girls whose names Lily couldn’t remember (but one of them wore the unicorn hairstyle). She didn’t get the chance to talk to them much because she spent most of the Feast getting to know their House Ghost, Sir Nicholas. Who would pass down the opportunity to talk to a real, live—dead—ghost? It had been going swimmingly until Lily made the faux pass of  mentioning Sir Nick was incredibly lucky to be nearly headless, and he spent the rest of the time informing her why that was not the case. It killed the mood. He moped all through the festivities while Lily balanced being polite with the excitement over the news they started flying lesson first thing tomorrow morning. 

How was she supposed to have guessed there were people aspiring to be headless?

“…half an inch, but that’s not enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Dalney-Podmore…” 

“Mhm,” Lily hummed, staring at the Head Table where Headmaster Dumbledore looked as old and wise and twinkling as his Chocolate Frog Card. It was too bad he didn’t teach any classes given his level of heroics. Pedantic Professor Frothmore was several seats down. Lily thought the wizard might look less stuffy outside of his suits, but now that she saw him dressed in robes, she was struck by how unlike himself he appeared. Frothmore looked more miserable than usual and entirely uncomfortable in a set of bland brown robes that might have been chosen to approximate the elegant three piece he’d been so upset to smudge with soot from the FLOO. All of a sudden she spotted someone leaving the staff table. 

“Nick, who’s that?” she asked, sitting up. That was a professor who looked beyond comfortable in the rich, velvety, plum robes he wore. He was bobbing up and down the aisles between Houses like a minor celebrity. He only sought out a select few special students, but anyone he spoke to was as happy to see him as he was to see them. 

“Oh that? That’s Professor Slughorn, Head of Slytherin House.” 

“How come he isn’t chatting with any of the students from his own table?” Lily looked over to the center of the Slytherin table where their House Ghost’s gruesome appearance wasn’t dampening anyone’s mood.

Nick sighed. “He’ll see them later. He does a Slytherin after-feast every year in his office for his favorites. He’s always throwing parties.”

He looked like two barrels of fun. She couldn’t help compare him to her own dour Head of House, Professor McGonagall, whom she had met in the reception chamber before the Sorting Ceremony. Sir Nicholas let out another mournful sigh. 

“You should li—” She was about to tell him to liven up when she caught herself. “You should live up to Gryffindor House ideals, Sir Nicholas. Ignore those buggers. Who cares about some dumb Headless Hunt?”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Lily, but it’s not easy to ignore your troubles. Why, if you knew the secret pains of the residents inside this castle, the minor tragedies of countless downtrodden lives, you would scarcely smile again.”

He’s going to tell me how he died, Lily thought with dread. That was a conversation she’d prefer to have if she ever failed an exam and need a little life perspective, not her first day at magic school when pudding was getting started. 

“What’s the best part of being a ghost?” she asked quickly. 

Nick mournfully stared at her custard tart. “Ghosts can’t eat. They can’t feel. No peace of death awaits them. Theirs is a half-life. Sometimes our ghostly existence feels like a punishment for our fear of death in our last moments; we are condemned to walk the earth in this pale shadow of existence forever.”

She sighed. She had to hand it to Mum and Dad, who turned out to be right on two counts. It really mattered who you sat next to. She was happy when it was time to leave the Great Hall.

“I can’t wait to learn how to fly a broom,” she told the group of chatting girls as they filed into the Entrance Hall and up the marble staircase. 

“I’m an ace flyer,” Nichola boasted. She started naming tricks she knew, which made one boy in the back brag he knew all those tricks and more. Lily sped up her pace to walk out of hearing distance. Her classmates knew how to perform stunts while she’d be learning to ride a broom for the first time. She pictured herself learning to ride a bicycle while her classmates raced laps and popped wheelies. It took the fun out of the upcoming lesson. At least she knew she’d have her first class with Sev, who’d told her he’d never ridden a broom either. Lily stopped at a moving painting of sea-nymphs swimming in a crystal blue pool; Mary, who was staring off at the moving staircases, bumped into her. 

The two seventh year Gryffindor prefects leading the pack were dating. She didn’t know what was more awkward, the trudge up the first four flights of stairs as the two of them argued about whose fault it was they almost missed the train, or the last three flights of stairs after the pair had made up with goo-goo eyes and passionate declarations of love. She wished she could forget she ever heard the words, “My snubby-wubby wampus.” The other first-years had the same idea and raced ahead of them to keep far away from any heavy petting.

“The entrance to Gryffindor’s Common Room is behind the portrait of the Fat Lady!” one of the prefects called up. The trotting group of first years saw her magnificent moving portrait in its frame up ahead and stopped when they reached it. The seventh year girl had detached herself from her boyfriend and was now several steps behind the group. 

“What’s the password?” Nichola shouted to the approaching prefect.

“Watch out!” the Fat Lady in the portrait yelled.

“No, the password is—”

The prefect didn’t get a chance to respond. To everyone’s surprise, the corridor began to flood with sewer water. The students covered their noses to block out the rank smell as the nearest prefect cast a spell to stop the water flow, which created an invisible barrier between the older students on one side and the nine first-years and the foul water on the other. Lily thought there might have been a plumbing accident, but the Fat Lady in the portrait behind her was grumbling about mischief makers. Who would flood the corridor of the Gryffindor Common Room? Lily stopped splashing in the muck.

Someone was singing. 

“Hogwarts! Hoggy Warty Hogwarts! Teach us something please!” A grinning face appeared in the air. 

What in the world was that? 

“Our heads could do with filling, with some interesting stuff—”

“Knock it off, Peeves!” yelled someone from the crowd of older students who must have recognized the voice.

“For now they’re bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff!” Peeves blew a gust of wind through the corridor that sent a cloud of dust in their direction. Lily coughed, not wanting to know where the dead flies came in. Whatever spell the prefect behind them had used to stop the water in its tracks also worked on the dust, forming a grimy wall of dust and dirty water behind them.

“It’s a poltergeist,” one girl nearby gasped.

Once upon a time, Severus had told Lily the difference between ghosts and poltergeists, but the only thing Lily could remember about them now was they didn’t seem nearly as friendly as ghosts. The spectral figure sent another gust of wind whirling at them and tossed something rotten at their feet. There was a loud splat from somewhere behind her and one boy wailed. Peeves must have hit a target. When Lily opened her eyes, two of her housemates had drawn their wands out.

It was those toerags from the train!

“What do we have here? Eight mangy lions and one black sheep!” The poltergeist gave a laugh that morphed into a bleating sound as he pranced in a circle over their heads. He was making woodlice fall on their hair like flakes of snow.

“Sputo!” The boy with the glasses waved his wand and a wet wad of parchment flew off its tip like a spitball. The onslaught kept coming, but Peeves dodged the lot with cartwheels. It was all a game to him. When the boy ran out of parchment, Peeves grinned at the group, raising his arms. The wads of wet papers flew back at them and the first years ducked for cover.  

He blew a long, gloating raspberry and Sirius Black saw his chance. The spell he uttered made the poltergeist’s flapping tongue lengthen, enlarge, and roll up like a carpet until it smacked him in the forehead. Peeves’ tongue wouldn’t unroll, and the angry specter vanished. Behind them, older Gryffindor students and a professor managed to make the water and dust disappear.

“You two can do magic already?” asked a plump blond boy in awe. Lily felt the same way, though she wouldn’t show it. She had no idea first years would be coming to Hogwarts knowing spells before classes started. She was glad Severus taught her a couple on the train because it seemed like most other kids in her year knew plenty.

Was she behind her classmates? 

The thought made Lily’s stomach squirm.  

It was one thing to hear Severus explain parts of the magical world like they were scenes from a storybook. It was another thing entirely to hear people speak about kneazles, gnomes, fairies, and doxies with the same banality as the weather.

Lily thought a run in with the pranking poltergeist might have taught Black and his friend some empathy, but she heard the pair laughing as they entered the portrait hole. They found it hysterical Peeves threw rotten gopher testicles at that chubby blond boy. The girls all trudged up to their dormitory, a couple of them talking about how handsome they found Sirius Black, while older students all complained about Peeves the poltergeist. 

“Do you know any spells?” Mary nervously asked Nichola as they entered their bedroom. 

“A couple jinxes,” she boasted. Nichola flicked her dark bob from her face and launched into a lengthy explanation. “My mum is high up in the Department of Magical Law and she’s very strict about following the Restriction for Underage Magic, so I had sneak my wand to practice in secret.” Mary and the other two girls listened intently, impressed, and Lily mentally rolled her eyes. She would have loved to practice spells in secret, but she had to worry about activating the Trace and getting her wand snapped if she was caught.

“You’re Muggle-born, right?” Nichola said, noticing Mary’s small frown. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re Muggle-born!” gushed the blonde whose hair wasn’t shaped like a cone. Lily would learn her name eventually. Her new roommates proved very accepting that she and Mary were Muggle-borns to the point where they became over-excited. “My Grandad was Muggle-born, he passed away several years ago…It was his time, no need to say sorry, but thank you. He kept these from his Mum—” she fished for something out of her trunk “—and no one in my family knows what they were for, but I’ve kept them ‘cause I think they’re lucky. They’ve been in my family for generations.”

She presented Mary and Lily with a pair of very old hearing aids. The two redheads looked at each other awkwardly.

“These look like hearing aids,” Mary said, tucking her ginger hair behind her ear. “We—Muggles—use them to improve hearing after hearing loss.”

“Don’t they have something like ear-unclogging potion?” the other, cone-haired blonde asked. 

“No,” Lily said flatly. It was an awkward moment as all five girls briefly considered the fact that some people in the world lose their sense of hearing while the magical world possessed a cure.

“Well, thank you. Now I know,” the blonde replaced the hearing aids in her trunk with reverence. “You two can probably make loads of Galleons teaching folks about Muggle stuff after graduation,” she said offhandedly. Mary beamed.

Lily knew it was meant as a compliment, but she wasn’t in Hogwarts to explain how hearing aids worked. She wanted to learn spells and fly. She flipped open the lid of her trunk with more force than necessary. “I heard wizards who work with Muggles didn’t do well on their exams,” she said petulantly, removing her pajamas from her trunk. Her roommates were staring at her wide-eyed.

“Where did you hear that?” Nichola interrogated sharply. The two other girls were whispering too low for Lily to hear.

“That’s not true. You need top marks to be an Obliviator—”

“Shh! Don’t tell her about the Obliviators!”

Nichola might have regretted her combative tone because her next words were pleasant but firm. “Barty Crouch is the best wizard in England after Dumbledore, and he says it’s a travesty more wizards don’t stay on top of Muggle news.” She looked from Mary to Lily and a smile spread across her face. “Say, you two wouldn’t have any tips how to do that, would you?” She had taken out a notepad and a quill. 

“Most people get The News of the World. You could look into The Times,” Mary said. “They sell them at kiosks or you can get a subscription.” Nichola furiously scribbled her answer in the notepad, getting splotches of ink all over her hands. She turned to Lily expectantly.

“My parents read The Daily Mail,” Lily said tediously. She was glad she and Sev practiced writing with quills for months. 

“You can watch the news on the BBC,” Mary piped up helpfully. Nichola stopped writing to brush hair out of her face, leaving streaks of ink across her cheek. 

“Ah. We, uhm, tried the television, but plugging it into the wall didn’t do anything.” Mary’s brow furrowed, but Lily understood at once.

“Wizard homes don’t have outlets, do they?” she said excitedly. Maybe her roommate lived in Hogsmeade, the only wizards-only village in the United Kingdom. She was about to ask when Mary helpfully inserted herself again.

“Launderettes have tellys sometimes, and airports! Or you could listen to Radio 4 on the wireless—95 FM.” Nichola returned to her scribbling and the other two girls jumped in with questions about how the telly works, whether Muggle showers have hot water, and who was the lady on Muggle paper money. It was as stimulating as listening to a broadcast of a snail race.She wanted to talk about magic, like what was that spell Black used on Peeves or what did Nichola's mum do in the Department of Magical Law.

“What’s with the hairstyle every girl is wearing?” Lily interrupted. “It’s after some singer, right?” 

The cone-haired blonde’s brown eyes lit up. “Just like Celestina Warbeck on the cover of her new album. I wish the WWN worked in Hogwarts! We’ll have to find a phonograph because you have not lived until you’ve heard The Unicorn in You!”

Lily smiled wryly. At least they were on the topic of music. After a little bit of Celestina trivia and some information about unicorns, Lily offered to teach Mary some spells, so the girl wouldn’t feel left out. 

“I can teach you two right away. There’s Lumos…and Nox.”

❀ ❀

“Hey Dungbreath!” Potter called.

Lily glared at the group of boys behind them. “Just ignore them, Sev,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes and turning back around. It was easy for her to say. The two idiots from the train only bothered her when he was near; they bothered him whenever they got the chance.

Severus sneered.“I’ve seen more signs of intelligent life from flobberworms.” Potter scowled, but Black was quick with a quip of his own.

“What were their names? Mum and Dad?”

Most of the students in hearing range giggled. Severus was about to retort when Professor Sprout walked in.

“All right, class. Settle down.”

Lily had started to laugh a note earlier than the others and Severus couldn’t tell if it was his line or Sirius’ that she found funny. She was his friend, but some of her new friends really liked those two clowns and he wondered if she ever felt torn in the middle. The last time he complained about them, Lily was adamant they change the subject. She did call the pair gits though. There was no time to talk to her now because Professor Sprout had them adding dung pellets as fertilizer into the soil of Thumping Thimble, a type of plant that slapped anything that came too close to its leaves or berries.

He made eye contact with Avery, who gave him a knowing, prophetic look. Ever since Evan admitted he got hexed, Avery felt especially vindicated in his judgment on the Black family. He never said the words, “I told you so,” but everyone wished he would take the easy way and gloat quickly rather than dragging it out with staged facial expressions like a smug bastard. Avery was convinced the single Black of Gryffindor was still a Black through and through. He pointed out Black attached himself to pureblood Potter “because that’s as far as he’s willing to go—camp outside the gates of the Sacred Twenty-Eight;” he still terrorized blood traitors, Muggle-borns, and halfbloods, even if he’d hex the occasional pureblood victim, and still acted like a privileged, self-important scion of the House of Black. “Face it, Snape, he’ll try to hex you ten times before me or Rosier. Don’t think for a second Sirius doesn’t know the blood status of everyone in this school. He was trained to memorize every pureblood family tree to the fifth generation.” 

Severus heard Potter and Black whispering and quickly glanced over his shoulder as they laughed. In his opinion, Black was simpler than Avery implied: he followed Potter’s lead in everything. 

Another dung pellet hit Severus square between the shoulder blades.

There was Potter, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. “Sorry, Professor. I’m training my Thumping Thimble to play Beater.” 

Sprout frowned in disapproval. “Less beating, more dung-shoveling!” she called, walking down the line of first-years. Her attention was quickly drawn away as Mulciber and his bush got into a brawl.

“If you say so, Professor.” 

Severus walked to the other side of his plant, seeing too many similarities between it and the heckling Gryffindors to enjoy the lesson. They both browbeat people simply because they could. Thimbleberries could be used in awakening potions, strengthening solutions, befuddlement draughts of the berserker variety. Gladys Gladefellow was famous for restarting a hippogriff heart with a potion of thimbleberry, but these plants were a pain in the arse, plain and simple. He was sure his hated him because it was thumping its leaves like a drum to hit him even though he was out of reach and it didn’t even have any berries on its branches yet. He dragged a heavy sack of dung pellets over to the station where he and Lily worked.

Lily wiped sweat away from her brow with her sleeve. By the end of the lesson, everyone was covered in dirt. Sprout was assigning them an essay when Severus saw a massive Graphorn turd fly through the air from the other side of the room. He ducked and the projectile hit his thimble, which was a better Beater than Potter’s had been, and clopped the turd toward Lily’s plant. Its pot shattered and the thimble, stricken, thumped the table on which it was placed, trying to take down anything it could with it. The shaking sent the other thimbles thumping or careening off the table until the greenhouse was a mess of spilled dirt and dung, broken pots, scattered leaves and broken plants. 

Professor Sprout, who had thus far not shouted at all in the week they’d been at Hogwarts, turned to the table of Gryffindor boys with a grimace to her rounded red face. 

“What do you three have to say for yourselves?”

Potter had the nerve to look unrepentant. “I thought he liked dirt, Professor, honest mistake. If you’d seen him last week on the Quidditch Pitch…” 

“Detention, you three, this Saturday at noon.”

The stout blond boy looked thrilled to be included, even if it was for a detention.

Black wore a charming grin. “We can’t, Professor. James and I already have a detention planned for this Saturday. How’s the Saturday after?” A couple of girls dissolved into simpering giggles.  

Professor Sprout muttered something under her breath about someone else needing to teach the Gryffindor-Slytherin class next year because she was tired of the burden falling on Herbology.

The worst thing about Wednesdays into Thursdays was he had to deal with Potter and Black for Herbology Wednesday afternoon, Astronomy at midnight, and Flying lessons Thursday morning. Tonight would mark the first Astronomy class of the term since last Wednesday was the Welcoming Feast. It was the only class all four Houses shared together. Lily had promised to see him tonight, but he found himself anticipating another encounter with the two Gryffindor goons.He only three classes with Lily, Herbology, Flying, and Astronomy, so he should have looked forward to every opportunity to see her, but he found himself wishing Slytherin shared no classes with Gryffindor and he and Lily could just meet at the library. 

The eight Slytherin first-years were waiting in the Common Room for their first Astronomy lesson. The three girls stood furthest from the fireplace. Arushi was trying to teach Mary and Agrippina a complicated dance, which they were failing at copying. Wilkes, Avery, and Evan took up two of the sofas. Severus kept himself far away from them because, yet again, their topic of conversation was Sirius Black and the one wizard Severus thought worth fewer dung beetles, James Potter.  

“At this rate, they’re going to get expelled,” Wilkes said, shaking his head in disapproval. 

“Sirius is the great-great grandson of a Hogwarts Headmaster,” Avery said lazily from where he lay across a sofa with his eyes closed. “They would find a way to keep him in this school if he murdered someone in the middle of the Great Hall.” Wilkes cast a doubtful look to Evan, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded mutely. “The Blacks think they own the place. After he died, the late great Phineas Nigellus left Hogwarts Castle to his children and grandchildren.”

“You can’t bequeath Hogwarts in a will!” Wilkes snapped sharply. Avery opened one eyelid, but it was Evan who answered.

“Well, the Blacks thought you could. They took their argument to the Wizengamot. They lost of course, but they got themselves on the Board of Governors for a quarter of a century as a concession.”

“Were they really that important?” Wilkes whipped his head from Avery to Evan, searching for a sign they were taking the mickey out of him. “I always thought their politics were unpopular. I mean, when you compare them to the rest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight—”

Arushi scoffed loudly, having stopped dancing to listen in on the conversation. “Some people don’t believe in the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” she sneered. “The Blacks call themselves the most ancient and most noble, but in Jumbudvipa, there are pureblood families who can trace their magical lineage for 2000 years. Britain’s pureblood directory is pathetic in comparison. Your islands are backwoods on backwater.” Arushi’s two friends looked slightly uncomfortable, but it was nothing compared to Evan and Avery’s intense looks of dislike. 

Mulciber leered from where he had been hiding Exploding Snap cards underneath pillows and between sofa cushions. 

“They must really hate your Dad back home if they sent him to such a rubbish heap. Guess he wasn’t good enough to be the ambassador to anywhere important.” Arushi glowered at him, the boys turning smug and the two other girls apprehensive. 

“My father chose to come to your Ministry. He’s here on a mission,” she sniffed, crossing her arms. “And everything I’m saying is the truth. In Jumbudvipa, we don’t have a Trace on underage magic. Wizards come first. Our creature population is thriving, and we offer sanctuary to magical beings. Our government doesn’t pride itself on how well our population hides.” Her last words cowed any of her would-be detractors. Arushi smugly put her hands on her hips. “I’ve never seen a Muggle in my life,” she announced proudly, snapping her head to Severus and glaring at him from beneath her thick eyebrows, as if his existence challenged her accomplishment. What did she expect? He’d pull a Muggle out of his pocket? He sneered back at her. 

“What about when you got on the train?” Wilkes posed the question like he didn’t quite believe her. 

“I closed my eyes like this and my father guided me to a compartment.” She demonstrated covering her eyes with her hands. Mulciber’s green eyes glinted. He pulled out his wand, but Mary Pike kicked him in the shin half-way through pointing it.

“You—”

“I leave you for twenty minutes and this is what happens,” Lucius called loudly from the opening to the Common Room. He sounded entertained, not disappointed, and everyone grinned at his entrance. They all walked to meet him by the exit unprompted, their previous dispute forgotten as Lucius smoothed it over like frosting on a cake. He addressed Mulciber first. “Should you feel the compulsion to jinx someone, choose a target outside of your House instead.” Then he turned to Mary, “And you, Miss Pike, we use our wands; we don’t hit people like Muggles.”

“I don’t know any jinxes yet,” Mary grinned.

“When we get back, I’ll teach you one to get you started,” he offered magnanimously. “I trust you all have your telescopes?”

“It’s only a quarter past,” Mulciber complained. 

“Enough time for a very leisurely walk to the seventh floor. If you walk fast, it takes twenty minutes, but I have good news for anyone who doesn’t believe me. The one student who tried to sprint the distance was fortunate to have collapsed right in front of the Hospital Wing.” No one volunteered to put his words to the test. Lucius kept the walk entertaining, and the stairs winded them enough that they took a break on the fourth floor. Lucius showed them a secret alcove behind a tapestry of sword fighting goblins. He dropped them off at the base of the Astronomy Tower’s spiral staircase on the seventh floor.        

Despite leaving forty minutes early, they arrived atop the astronomy tower with only five minutes to spare. Professor Corazon, their astronomy teacher, was nothing more than a nasally voice. The tower was so dark that the professor was virtually invisible in the pitch-black night. Fairy lights suspended in jars secured to the parapets cast enough light for students to record notes on their star charts but little else. Severus couldn’t find Lily in these conditions and didn’t want to risk nearing a wrong cluster of Gryffindors. It was a balanced set of scales: he couldn’t see Potter or Black moving through the dark, but they couldn’t see him either. He stayed on the fringes of his own House and pulled out his telescope. The first lesson began with charting Virgo. They only had a couple of weeks until the Spring equinox and Professor Corazon wanted everyone familiar with the constellation. Severus found the Big Dipper within Ursa Minor, followed its handle to Arcturus, trained his telescope on Spica and started taking notes. He could hear his classmates readjusting their telescopes. Had they already moved on to Virgo’s second-brightest star? 

There were a number of excited shouts and concerned murmurs. Telescopes began swiveling in the direction of pointing fingers. Severus looked around, unable to figure out what was happening. He frantically searched the sky for whatever everyone was talking about, past the binary star of Spica, past an airplane flying towards Hogwarts, over to the constellations where no one was looking. Suddenly, an ear-splitting shriek broke the quiet of the night air, and he whipped his head back to the other students on the tower. Professor Corazon’s voice rang out over the class.

“It’s alright, everyone! They can’t see us through Hogwarts’ enchantments.” The plane created a loud, whirring hum as it flew overhead. 

The screaming started up again, constant like a wailing banshee, with no sign of stopping. Professor Corazon tried to get a handle on the class, who were all talking over one another and looking around for the source of the noise. Severus couldn’t make out anything distinct in the dark; his classmates were blobs of shadowy figures.

All of a sudden, Corazon cast a sonorous charm that nearly burst his eardrum. “Out of my way! All of you against the wall!” his thunderous voice commanded. There was a blinding surge of light as the astronomy professor cast an illuminating charm as powerful as a floodlight. Severus stumbled backwards until his back hit the cold tower wall. Spots of color clogged his vision when he blinked his eyes open, his classmates similarly disoriented.

Under Professor Corazon’s wandlight, Arushi Bhatar was curled up on the stone floor against the parapet, screaming with her eyes closed and her hands covering her ears. Mary and Agrippina were at her side trying to calm her, but she wasn’t in a position to notice them. Professor Corazon had to physically tear her hands away from her ears and shake her to get her to open her eyelids. She kept screaming.

“Nobody move! None of you move!” The tower brightened as their professor lit several torches along the parapet simultaneously. He then conjured a stretcher underneath the Slytherin girl and descended down the tower steps with the stretcher levitating at his side. Surprisingly, when the class was left alone, everyone listened to his directions, but that was because most of them went back to staring at the plane. 

Mary MacDonald, who almost never spoke, suddenly became very animated. “That’s a BAC 1-11!” she exclaimed loudly with the sort of excitement that would make the shiest speaker sound confident. “Nothing to be afraid of, least of all on the ground. My dad flies one!” Noticing she had the attention of a fair number of people around her, she added, “I’ve flown on loads.” There was a hint of pride in her voice.

“Wicked,” Sirius said, without tearing his eyes away from the sky. Mary looked like Christmas came early and Sirius Black speaking to her was her big surprise from Father Christmas himself. She was so smitten with him, she could do little more than bat her eyelashes. “How does it stay up with all that weight?”

Another boy from Gryffindor laughed loudly and obnoxiously, although he was plump himself. A few other students giggled along with him—the usual crowd who laughed at Black and Potter’s jokes. Mary went very still and silent, looking every bit as if she wished the ground would swallow her whole. Confused that no one answered him, Sirius finally looked away from the plane’s blinkering light, and, noticing Mary was heavy-set, looked chagrined, as if, for once in his life, he had not been cruel on purpose. 

Professor Corazon returned then, but only to dismiss the class early. Severus snatched up his belongings. It was his new strategy in any class Slytherin shared with Gryffindor, rushing out of the room the moment the bell rang. He had tried being the last to leave the classroom, but Potter and Black would linger too or use the extra time to find a spot ambush him. Sometimes a third boy would be with them, the one who had laughed earlier; he laughed at anything Potter or Black did.

“What’s the matter, Snivellus? Running away in case the airplane comes back,” Black called viciously. They were quick, the first ones behind him. 

“Cwying because baby never saw an aiwplane before?” Potter mocked. The two laughed, and one shot a spell at him—Potter’s probably—which missed because the spiral staircase made it hard to aim.

Severus jumped the last several steps and nearly knocked into Lucius. There was a break in the laughter behind him. Black stopped abruptly mid-bark, and Potter continued on a bit more like a single moving wheel on a bicycle. He glanced questioningly at his mate, clueless as to why  Black pulled the brakes.

“Ah, Sirius, just the young wizard I was hoping to see.” Lucius waved a sealed envelope in his right hand, but Black’s eyes had trained on it before it started moving. Potter was a fish out of water for once. At first his face split into cheesy grin, interpreting the white envelope as a flag of surrender; then he realized his conclusions didn’t match Black’s reaction. It was clearly too much for him. His puny brain was short-circuiting. Eventually, when he understood Sirius wasn’t going to take it, he made to grab it himself but Lucius lifted the letter out of reach without looking at him. His gray eyes were fixed directly on Sirius. “Your parents have been very concerned that you haven’t replied to their letters. If I were you and these were my parents, I would write a reply tonight and rush to the Owlery first thing in the morning. Narcissa believes Walburga and Orion intend to come in person.”

Black lost all the color in his face. From the look of things, he was finally dealt half the misery he doled out on everyone else. Lucius handed the letter over to Potter, who looked between the envelope and Sirius in confusion. The two left for Gryffindor Tower briskly as more footsteps descended the stairwell. 

“Lucius, how did you know to get here so early?” Evan asked, trailing behind Avery and Mulciber.  

“The Fat Friar alerted all prefects and professors between this floor and the Hospital Wing when he heard screaming. That’s how Professor Corazon was able to return to the Tower so quickly.” A couple of Ravenclaws descended the steps and Lucius gestured for them to start walking. 

“Is Arushi alright?” Agrippina asked miserably.

“She stopped screaming—I believe they gave her a calming draught. You may visit her tomorrow if you like. Now, tell me what happened with this…Muggle aircraft.” 

His Housemates all started talking at once, outdoing each other with exaggerations.

“It was so fast it appeared overhead instantly. Then it hovered there for ten minutes until Professor Corazon’s illuminating charm scared it off.”

“It came so close to the school, it could’ve hit an owl!”

“Do you think the Muggles were trying to blow us up?” Pike asked.

Lucius stopped walking. “Not all Muggle aircrafts cause explosions,” he said slowly, “but I don’t think Arushi knew that.”

The trip down to the Dungeons was much faster than the trip up to the Astronomy Tower. They passed by the Hospital Wing in subdued spirits. A few professors were stationed outside the doors, prevailing on them to return to their Common Room swiftly. Pike asked McGonagall if she and Agrippina could see Arushi, but the no-nonsense Transfiguration professor curtly pointed to the Hospital Wing’s visiting hours posted next to door. “No exceptions.” There were a few older students posted by the Common Room’s fireplace, half of whom wore slippers and dressing gowns. They all turned their heads to Lucius, but he motioned them to wait as he headed down stairwell to the boys’ dormitory behind the five boys. Severus, who was last in line, turned back to Lucius, who was lingering outside of his own door. They were the last ones out on the steps.

“I tried your Potions tip,” Lucius mentioned casually.

“And? How did it work?” Severus asked excitedly, rushing back up the stone stairs. He was failing to keep his voice nonchalant. He didn’t want to sound surprised; he knew it would get results. 

Lucius leaned against the wall and crossed his ankles, his hands in his robe pockets.“An unusual potion for a first year to take such interest in, a potent sleeping potion which mirrors a deathlike slumber.” Severus motioned for Lucius to get on with it. This wasn’t a palm reading. Lucius kept his voice slow and suspenseful on purpose. “I had the best potion in the class.” 

“And you got it to turn pale lavender? What was your ratio for counterclockwise to clockwise rotations?” 

Lucius lifted his eyebrows at the interrogation. “It didn’t turn pale lavender. I ran out of time.” Severus rolled his eyes, and Lucius turned defensive. “We didn’t have the full double class period, and I was far ahead of anyone else.”

“Yeah, yeah. What were your stirring numbers?”

“I chose 8 to 1.” Severus frowned in thought. “That would give the draught a revolution quotient of seven, the most powerful magical number for the most powerful sleeping potion. I kept that pattern through—” 

“Of course you did. You can’t deviate stirs on a somnolent potion unless it’s a consecutive countdown. Everyone knows that.”

Lucius shot him a wry smirk. “I am good at potions.”

Severus grinned. “But you are taking advice from a first-year.”

They were interrupted by the fast tapping of a single dragonskin shoe. That was Narcissa, Lucius’ girlfriend. It was her habit that whenever she came across him and Lucius together, she would tap her foot until Lucius stopped talking to him. Severus only ever saw her in profile. She wouldn’t look at him, she never spoke a word to him. Sometimes in Potions class, when he finished early and had extra time, he thought about how she had to face the cockroaches, the grubs, and the scorpion flies for her Potions class, but she wouldn’t look at him. Avery said it was because the Black family was more blood-obsessed than any other wizards in England. He thought about it more than he should have. People in Cokeworth knew to sneer at anyone from mill housing, and this really wasn’t all that different. 

The tapping got heavier. She must have gotten impatient because she was practically stomping her foot to produce a louder sound. Severus studied her long eyelashes. He’d find out how many sets of 8 to 1 rotations Lucius completed tomorrow. There were no hard feelings when Lucius mutely waved him goodbye and returned to the Common Room. 

By morning, the whole school was talking about the Muggle airplane that flew over Hogwarts and the Slytherin girl who had been taken up to the Hospital Wing. All the early risers of Hogwarts witnessed Mr. and Mrs. Bhatar arrive to the school by carriage. Slughorn, usually a late-sleeper, went to meet them at the gates personally, and if rumors were to be believed, they were angrier than manticores. The airplane story had even made its way onto the front page of The Prophet. Severus skimmed a few paragraphs after Avery tossed his paper aside. 

The article was so dull, it was remarkable what a spectacular tale Slytherin House had weaved it into. They seized onto the Bhatars’ visit, reading into their body language and the pomp of their entrance, and news that came from the ghosts to cobble a subversive story together. There was a pervasive rumor passing through Slytherin House alone that Dumbledore had conspired to keep Arushi Bhatar’s parents from visiting the Hospital Wing last night on purpose to give TheDaily Prophet enough time to run a story explaining that the plane was harmless. 

“Think about it—why else wait to alert them until after the Prophet published their latest propaganda piece?”

“Dumbledore stayed there all night because he couldn’t risk her sending an owl or using the FLOO to get in contact. I’m serious, he was there! I heard it from Liu who heard it from Osbert that The Grey Lady saw him!”

“Poor Dad, he couldn’t even make the front page,” Mulciber quipped over morning pumpkin juice. Wilkes shuffled his Prophet pages, sending shifty looks Mulciber’s way.

“Mulciber, your dad is facing a Wizengamot inquisition!” he choked.

“He’s innocent,” Mulciber said dismissively. Wilkes wordlessly shoved his open paper to Evan, whose eyebrows climbed up as he read through it.

“Watch it, Wilkes. You look like the Bloody Baron,” Avery drawled, sugaring his grapefruit. Wilkes only widened his eyes like he was trying to communicate some grave message of warning Avery’s way. Mulciber couldn’t care less. He’d been crumpling and uncrumpling his paper for some time, and Severus finally figured out what he had been trying to do. He lifted a crudely formed paper airplane and hurled it at wall. It crashed into the floor before it got there, swerving in a crooked line, its heavy wings refusing to catch lift. Evan fought to keep his expression neutral, his next words tactfully polite. 

“I hope his name is cleared.”  

First-year flying lessons were cancelled for the day, so the Slytherins headed back to their dormitories. There was a flurry of commotion by the Great Staircase with students from all Houses pointing to a set of figures on one of the moving stairwells. It hadn’t been just the Bhatars who came to Hogwarts. Eugenia Jenkins, the Minister of Magic, and Philo Avery, the Head of the Department of International Cooperation, were standing next to Dumbledore. Avery’s dad and Dumbledore wore matching poker faces, but the Minister was high-strung, leaning over the stairwell bannister with pursed lips and heavy lines creasing her brow. Her eyes were free from dark circles, her salt-and-pepper hair coifed in an elaborate bun, and her dark blue robes meticulously arranged, but faint traces of steam blew from her ears as though she had taken a large dose of Pepper Up last night. Professor McGonagall came outside to usher students along, so Severus wasn’t able to tell if the three figures were heading from Dumbledore’s office to the Hospital Wing or the other way round. 

Somehow Avery disappeared along the way, but no one in the dorm was concerned. They all appreciated the respite—maybe not Mulciber. Half an hour into what should should have been their Flying Lesson, they heard voices descending the staircase of the Slytherin Boys’ Dormitories from the Common Room.

“This was my dorm when I went to school, bottom of the stairwell. I’d forgotten what a pain it was to climb up.” The door opened to a wizard who looked like Avery from the future. Father and son had the same flat, elongated nose, the same upturned eyes, the same broad lips. The only difference between them that age alone couldn’t account for was that Avery wore his hair cropped close to the head while his father wore his dark, ropelike hair long, with a handful of silver beads interspersed through the locs. Past, present, and future seemed to collide as Philo was hit with a wave of nostalgia looking around the room; Severus shook himself to stop seeing double, wondering if Avery was being groomed as the next Head of International Cooperation. 

As if to cement the connection between father and son, Mr. Avery immediately bent down to greet the family cat. “Tivali, did you miss me?” he cooed. “Do you miss your bedroom back home.” The cat gave a spoiled mew. Of course Avery’s cat would have its own bedroom. Probably bigger than Severus’ at Spinner’s End.

Mr. Avery greeted Mulciber with a dazzling smile. “Harry, you’ve grown a foot since I’ve last seen you.” He turned to Rosier with an expression of sympathy. “Hello, Evan. I heard about Sirius.” Evan gave a grim smile. “Sometimes, friendships are made like flowers, meant to bloom for a season. It’s better for some friendships to end; not all friendships have a future.” He absentmindedly stroked the curtains of the bed nearest to him. 

Wilkes, having learned nothing from the Sorting Ceremony a week prior, nearly tripped himself to reach Mr. Avery and stuck out his hand. “Linus Tiberius Wilkes.” Unlike his son last week, Philo Avery did a convincing job of hiding his distaste and gave Wilkes’ outstretched hand a handshake. Wilkes beamed. “I’ve read everything about you, Mr. Avery. I want to work for the Department of International Cooperation when I graduate. Congratulations on your promotion, sir! You were the most qualified candidate by far.”

Mr. Avery seemed put-off by Wilkes’ boundless enthusiasm, but he forced a smile. “You look like an earnest, energetic young man.”

“You too, sir!” The rest of them snickered. Wilkes, realizing what he said, looked like he wanted to die on the spot. Mr. Avery’s compulsory smile slipped into a more genuine quirk of the lips.

“Thank you, Linus. It’s very flattering for a wizard pushing fifty to hear.” 

He sat down on Avery’s bed and surveyed the room. “Arrows fans, huh?” Evan and Wilkes had joined their Quidditch posters together so a chunk of the room resembled a shrine to the two friends’ favorite Quidditch team. Philo seemed to lose himself somewhere in time. 

“That was my bed,” he said, gesturing to Wilkes’ own. “I wanted the spot between the windows.” Wilkes looked like he won the jackpot for having Mr. Avery’s bed, clueless that the lucky draw, if Slughorn was any indication, was having Avery as father. Philo addressed Mulciber and pointed to Rosier’s bed next. “Harry, Faustus was there. We knew your grandfather, Evan, but he was older, two doors down. Abraxas Malfoy was the door next to his.” He patted the green covers of his son’s bed. “Janus Nott slept here, and Caius Lestrange was next to him.”

“You only had four?” Mulciber questioned as Mr. Avery stared at his canopied bed frame. 

“No, no we had five, but I can’t remember who—” 

“Tom?” Severus supplied. 

Philo Avery looked at him like he pulled the answer from his mind with Legilimency. A swirl of emotions passed across his face. Darkness, suspicion, hostility, fear. 

“How did you—”

“He carved his name into the headboard,” Severus said, lifting up his pillow. Everyone in the room was staring at the three letters of Tom’s name, carved unforgettably in the dorm furniture. Tom didn’t sound like the type of roommate you forgot about. 

“So he did,” Mr. Avery said curiously. “He was…very talented at magic. He would invent his own spells.” 

Severus perked up at that. He had written Tom off, perhaps unfairly, as a spoiled rich wanker with no aptitude, but ol’ Tom was sounding very interesting at the moment. Maybe Severus would’ve liked him as a roommate. 

“He was of the opinion…it was faster for him to invent a spell than to search for one and learn it.” The other boys all wore skeptical expressions, so Mr. Avery elaborated. “The spells he wanted to create were spells that, if they existed, were hidden in books locked behind the library’s Restricted Section.”

Severus could see it now. Tom’s name was carved into Mr. Avery’s skull as indelibly as the wooden headboard.

“Wouldn’t it be faster to convince Sluggy to write him a pass?” Avery asked his dad with copious judgment. He slouched further against his propped up elbow. 

“He did both.”

“Where’s Tom now?” Evan asked curiously, sitting on his trunk. 

“He…he travelled,” Mr. Avery said vaguely. “There were tales of greater forms of magic in the East, greater wizards.” He abruptly stood up. “Boys, it’s been fun catching up, but I should check on the Minister, see if she needs anything.” He said his goodbyes, hugged his son and kissed their precious cat, and left the room. Mulciber and Avery immediately began talking. Evan gestured Wilkes closer.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered. “Tom’s probably in Azkaban. Mr. Avery seemed evasive. He didn’t mention Tom’s last name—and what was all that about some friendships are better left in the past?”

Wilkes frowned and shook his head. He surreptitiously glanced over his own shoulder, then stepped closer to Evan and lowered his voice. “No way. Someone talented enough to invent his own spells would have better options. Mr. Avery was obviously talking about Mulciber’s dad. If you’re the Head of International Cooperation, it looks bad if you have a friend who’s appearing in front of the Wizengamot for illegal activities. I mean, Azkaban?” He ducked his head nervously as though Dementors could leap out of the stone walls of their dormitory.

Evan scoffed, exasperated. “This is Slytherin, Linus. You’re guaranteed to know someone who’ll wind up in Azkaban." 

Wilkes gave a tiny yelp and turned his gaze directly at Severus over Evan’s shoulder. He backed up until he knocked into his own bed where he cocooned himself in the sheets, as though he could protect himself with the trappings of Mr. Avery’s success. Poor sod forgot the House Elves would’ve washed the bedding in thirty years. The knock on the door sent him trembling.

“It’s open,” Mulciber shouted. 

Agrippina Pallsworth was behind the door. Severus had never paid her much notice. She was always standing beside her friends, looking disproportionately large next to their petite frames, but she somehow managed to look more awkward without them, like she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her dark brown hair began low on her forehead and her eyes were squinty, like someone who might need glasses to see. “Professor Slughorn wants…uhm…”

“Spit it out already,” Avery snapped. She fidgeted with her hands, surveying the room. 

“I can’t remember who.”

“Long walk down the stairs, huh,” Mulciber muttered. Severus couldn’t agree more, rolling his eyes. 

“It’s probably one of us,” Evan said to Avery, who heaved a sigh.

“You lot should come too. On the chance it isn’t one of us, we’re not coming back down to play messenger.” Both boys grabbed their book bags. Severus readied his own belongings. He was going to head up to the library. 

“Oi, Wilkes! Quit working the House Elves.” Mulciber snapped his fingers at the lump of covers  between the windows looking onto the uninhabited stretch of lake. 

Wilkes turned to them, seeming not to recognize whom he was speaking with. “I’m sleeping in Philo Avery’s bed,” he gushed.

Mulciber rolled his eyes. “So is Avery’s Mum and you don’t see her on the Department of International Cooperation.” 

They caught up to Evan and Avery at the top of the stairwell because Avery held up the line by walking so slowly, dragging his feet on every step. Slughorn was waiting for them in the Common Room. “Thank you, Miss Pike.”

“Uhm. I’m Miss Pallsworth.”

“Ah, Evan!” Slughorn cried in delight before a small furrow creased his brow. “Braxton, your father is waiting for me in my office if you’re looking for him.” Agrippina had joined Mary at the windows a few feet away.

“I thought he’s with the Minister,” Avery said, a spark of interest flickering across his bored face. 

“He was supposed to be, but the Minister’s meeting with Dumbledore went longer than planned,” Slughorn explained jovially. He wrapped his arm round Rosier’s shoulders. “Now, Evan, m’boy, I thought you could bring this up to Arushi in the hospital wing.” He gestured to a fancy box of chocolates wrapped in one of Honeyduke’s golden-grade ribbons. “Something to cheer her up and let her know we’re thinking about her.”

Mary clenched her fingers into fists and she grabbed Agrippina’s wrist tightly. “We’re her friends!” 

“Professor, why don’t all seven of us go,” Evan said quickly. “As a show of Slytherin solidarity.” 

Avery nodded eagerly, his eyes suddenly keen. “Brilliant idea! I agree, sir!” Why would he…they want to spy on Dumbledore and the Minister, Severus realized, his eyes widening. Slughorn beamed at them, ebulliently expressed his approval, and waved them off in the corridor, as he turned in the direction his office. Severus eyed his housemates. Though the girls might have cared about visiting Bhatar, they were all on the same wavelength. Even Pallsworth put together what they were doing. 

“Hospital wing,” Mulciber grinned, clapping his hands.

“Mulciber, be quiet. None of you get us caught!” Avery hissed. They didn’t actually have to be quiet until they neared the fourth floor staircase and it became obvious how much noise they were making. Every footstep seemed to echo by seven times and portraits lining the Great Staircase leaned in their frames to ogle the crowd of them.

“Shut up, you prats!” Pike hissed. 

“What about you? The whole third floor must’ve heard you,” Wilkes rejoined. “Learn to whisper!” 

“Shh, shh,” Avery waved his hands over the group. “This isn’t working.” Severus crept past him up the top of the steps to check if the fourth floor corridor was clear. He turned back to find his housemates staring at him.

“So it’s settled. Snape’s the quietest. He should go first,” Evan said. Everyone nodded like some silent vote had been cast behind his back. 

Contrary to Evan’s declaration, it wasn’t settled. Severus shifted his weight on the top step, but he didn’t refuse outright. After all, he hadn’t come all this way to check on Arushi Bhatar. Somewhere up ahead was a secret meeting between the Headmaster and the Minister of Magic, one that the Head of the Department of International Cooperation couldn’t sit in on. Albus Dumbledore’s Chocolate Frog Card entry floated to the top of his mind. Albus Dumbledore is particularizing famous for the defeat of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald… Was he really going to spy on the greatest wizard of modern times?

“Alright.” His housemates smiled winsomely at him, their mouths pulled into sharp corners. He knew where this was going if things turned south. He wasn’t anybody’s friend. 

Severus silently stalked down the corridor, ducking low to avoid the attention of any neighboring portraits. The Hospital Wing was a stone’s throw away, but he didn’t need to go that far. He heard voices coming from a narrow door up ahead on his right. He glanced over his shoulder, spotting Evan and Avery motioning him further along from the other end of the corridor, and pressed his ear against the door.

“—avoided a much larger public panic. I would have done the same no matter who the student in question had been.”

“Be that as it may, the student in question so happens to be the daughter of the single most contentious ambassador Britain has ever received. I nearly gave the ghost when I saw the letter with his last name, I was praying there was no relation. Britain’s on thin ice with Rishi Bhatar. You have no idea the fallout this incident could lead to. Think about how it sounds, Albus. The ambassador’s terrified eleven year-old daughter spends an entire night begging to see her parents, who discover she’s in the Hospital Wing hours later, a minute after The Prophet publishes their front page story.”

Dumbledore’s response was tired and quiet. “I could hardly force her to take a sleeping draught against her will.” 

It was as good as a confession. So much for a crackpot conspiracy, Dumbledore had actually prevented Arushi from speaking to her parents to avoid public backlash. But from the sound of it, he did a terrible job. Either he completely blew up foreign policy by accident while trying to prevent a much less serious crisis…or for some reason, Dumbledore was of the impression that his course of actions were better than angering an important foreign official with a great deal of power.  

The Minister gave a long-suffering sigh.

“He’s already lodged a complaint with the ICW. Believe me, I would love to be dealing with a few dozen owls from angry, frightened parents instead. Out of the cauldron and into the fire, as they say.” 

What sort of problem could an airplane over Hogwarts create that would be more serious than negative attention from the International Confederation of Wizards?

He heard footsteps and dove into the alcove behind the tapestry of sword fighting goblins, praying they hadn’t heard him. The door opened and closed, and two sets of feet paused in the corridor in front of his tapestry. He held his breath. The footsteps continued towards the direction of the Hospital Wing doors, which also closed. Severus waited thirty seconds, then pulled back the tapestry like a curtain. The corridor was empty in both directions. Looks like his housemates fled. He deliberated between turning back to the Dungeons or going to the Hospital Wing doors. He’d already heard one huge piece of news. The Hospital Wing won out. He cast a look back at the colored tapestry. One goblin found himself disarmed and his conquerer plunged his sword straight through his woven heart. 

Severus heard the raucous voices from the Hospital Wing arguing before he reached the door. 

“This is unacceptable! We should have been notified by FLOO the moment our daughter was brought to the Hospital Wing.” That must have been Mrs. Bhatar. 

“You’re such a Muggle-lover, Dumbledore, I wonder what you think of your English Muggles’ invasion into Jumbudvipa!” The fiery voice must have belonged to her husband. He spoke with less of an accent than Arushi or his wife.

“It was a terrible crime, Mr. Bhatar, but I am moved to hear that you care so deeply about the Muggles of India.” Dumbledore’s voice was older and even-tempered. There was a loud scraping sound of a chair being forcefully thrust back.

“Please, Mr. Bhatar, this is a Hospital Wing.” That must’ve been the matron.

“Snakes! Sneaks!” Severus whipped his head around. His housemates hadn’t left after all; they chose this moment to approach the set of doors and got caught by one of the portraits, who was shouting his head off, the snitch. Madam Pomfrey threw open the doors. Behind her, Severus could see the shocked Minister of Magic, the confused Bhatars, and the shrewd face of Albus Dumbledore. 

He would’ve expected one person from his House to have made a run for it, but surprisingly no one did. They all bunched closer together, and Avery, the best liar of the group, headed their story.

“Professor Slughorn sent us with a gift for Arushi. We came to see how she’s doing.” Evan lifted the decorative chocolate box.

“You liars. You were standing by the doors, listening in!” The same portrait from before grassed them up.

Avery smiled disarmingly at Pomfrey and Arushi’s mother, on whom it had a greater affect. “My dad said to be careful not to interrupt anything. Arushi, want some chocolates?”  

There was a faint murmur from the bed behind the adults, and Mrs. Bhatar immediately lowered her head to hear better. Severus hadn’t noticed the girl laid up in a hospital bed behind all the adults. He thought Arushi was milking it. You don’t need medical intervention for seeing a plane. That said, her skin was grayer than usual. Normally it was the same tone as her father’s. She had bags under her eyes, and her voice had the same slippery quality as someone who drank a throat-soothing tincture. Her long hair was out of its usual ponytail, fanned out against the stark white Hospital bed pillow like the waves of a dark, troubled sea. They all came closer, Mary Pike pushing her way to the bedside and dragging Agrippina with her. A little bit of sparkle returned to Arushi’s brown eyes. 

“These are my friends,” she whispered slowly, pointing to Pike and Pallsworth. The two introduced themselves to Arushi’s parents, who knew their names from a letter and spoke to them in much more pleasant tones than they had for the adults in the room. Severus inched away from the circle of visitors. He felt suffocatingly warm, like someone had offered him tea but stuck him in front of the steam rising from the kettle instead. He almost wished he had gotten caught overhearing the Headmaster’s conversation with the Minister so he wouldn’t have to be here. 

He froze. He could feel Dumbledore’s eyes on him. It was a cold feeling. 

There was a quiet knock of the Hospital Wing door, and Mr. Avery came inside with Lucius. Why was Lucius there? The Minister, for her part, leapt toward Mr. Avery as though he were manning the last life boat from a flood zone. Mrs. Bhatar hadn’t glanced away from Arushi when the door opened, but her husband tensed.

“Mr. Bhatar,” Mr. Avery greeted grimly. “I hope our prior history does not color the tragic circumstances that led to this meeting. My heart goes out to your family.” He put an arm around Avery as he glanced from husband to wife. “I know if it were my son, I would be here, doing the same.” The Bhatars reached out and shook Mr. Avery’s proffered hand. Lucius took a step froward and Mr. Avery put an arm around him.

“This is my godson, Lucius.” 

Slytherin was a small world.

“I hope we can work out a solution to assure you of your daughter’s safety at Hogwarts.” 

The Minister beamed, a wave of relief rolling over her and softening the deep lines in her face. Maybe she feared that Arushi’s parents would pull her from the school. Slughorn had joined them in the very crowded Hospital wing despite Madam Pomfrey’s protests of ailing students needing their rest.  

“If I may recommend a trip to Hogsmeade.” Slughorn cut in. “The village is beautiful at this time of year and a change of scenery might raise Miss Bhatar’s spirits.”

“First years aren’t allowed—” The Minister shot Dumbledore a pointed look and he smoothly backtracked. “Then, perhaps I can offer to put the cost on my tab?”

So Dumbledore was a snake like any other. It didn’t really change his opinion of the Headmaster. Just because Dumbledore was a war hero with a Chocolate Frog Card didn’t mean he was a storybook character. It made sense that any powerful wizard who played into politics would have to make unsavory decisions behind closed doors some time or another. At least he wasn’t a dolt who blundered into a worldwide cockup over a bloody airplane. Severus doubted anyone would ever find out the whole truth behind the airplane coverup, maybe not even the Minister herself. As he returned to his Common Room, he considered what the Sorting Hat had told him about friends in Slytherin. It was almost a thousand years old—maybe the concept the Hat had intended to communicate was that of a well-oiled machine. Every cog had its part to play. 

Severus caught up with Lily in the library after classes. She’d spent the whole day listening to conversations about the plane from last night and had been very disappointed with the cancellation of their second flying lesson.

“Kind of chicken-hearted to be scared of a plane when you’re on the ground.” There was a hint of a smirk on her face. She was clearly suppressing a smile, but her tone was charitable enough. 

“She’s from a part of the world where the purebloods are so sheltered, they think the only airplanes that exist are bomber planes and fighter jets,” Severus said. He didn’t know what made him bother. He thought Arushi was way too coddled over the airplane incident. There wasn’t really a reason to defend her.  

“Oh,” Lily said, smirk gone. A new sensitivity colored her voice. Severus knew she’d be understanding. She'd sat through history lessons in primary school and worn poppies on Remembrance Day. 

“It was nice of Dumbledore to stay with her then,” Lily brightened. Severus declined to share the theory spreading round Slytherin that Dumbledore held Arushi captive in the hospital wing as a political plot, or what he witnessed on the fourth floor. She really liked Dumbledore. 

“Kind of funny,” Lily remarked, picking up a discarded copy of the morning’s Prophet. “We come all this way to a magic castle and all anyone can talk about is some kids spotting an airplane.”