Professor Snape's cloak billowed behind him as he strode swiftly, with abrupt steps, directly into the center of the hall. The murmur in the common room died, replaced by a deathly silence. Several upper-years quickly approached him, and then they rushed off to find the prefects. Fortunately, Selwyn was in the common room, right in her own room. Foley, however, took longer to find.
"Miss Selwyn," his voice cut through the air even without raising its tone. "Gather the second-years here. Immediately."
One of the upper-years rushed to carry out the order. I slowly closed my book, setting it aside on the stone ledge beside me. My face was serene, but inside, everything had frozen, switching to analysis. I had expected something like this could happen, but had hoped until the last that it wouldn't reach the Head of House.
In any case, even in the worst-case scenario, if Snape knew that I or my Council were to blame, he wouldn't particularly do anything, perhaps just conduct an interrogation for appearances. Besides being my father's friend and my brother's godfather, he was also a Slytherin who continued the traditions of our illustrious house and didn't interfere in the snakes' squabbles, just as Slughorn once hadn't.
Soon, Selwyn and Lucian stood before him, along with just under half of all the second-years. The rest were outside the common room and would take too long to find.
"Professor?"
"Bring the student placement list," Snape snapped, not even looking at her, instead sweeping his icy gaze over the gathered crowd. "I need to know which rooms are assigned to the second-year students."
Selwyn, slightly taken aback, ran to get the list, while Lucian, tensing slightly, began asking Snape what had happened.
"Mr. Foley, await your colleague," the Head of House replied, true to form.
When the returning prefect had the placement list in hand, she began reading it aloud. Snape nodded, not interrupting. Then he raised his head, and his voice scraped across the hall:
"All second-years. Come to me immediately and line up. Let each one state their room number and the names of their roommates."
A monotonous procedure began. One by one, under the Head of House's watchful gaze, the younger students approached and mumbled their numbers. I watched from my corner. Apparently, Rookwood hadn't said exactly which room had been "taken" and by whom. Either he didn't know, or he didn't want to reveal that he knew everything. Interesting…
Snape's tone gradually changed. Gradually becoming even sharper and more cutting than usual. And his heavy gaze, which he increasingly directed at Torbin Rookwood… mmm, delicious! Rookwood stood slightly aside, trying to be invisible, but with each minute, he grew paler.
Finally, when the last second-year stammered out his number, silence fell. Snape slowly clasped his hands behind his back and raised his chin even higher.
"So," he said, and notes of contempt for someone were already perceptible. "The rooms are accounted for, and, apparently, all second-years are placed. I have found no 'taken' premises. No complaints from any victims have been received, either." He turned his head to Rookwood. "Congratulations, Mr. Rookwood. You have successfully wasted my time and that of the entire house, over worthless rumors. Next time, before running with denunciations, make sure you have at least some basis. Other than your, obviously, inflamed imagination. One month of detention… with me."
Torbin flinched as if struck across the face.
"Professor, I… a third-year student told me about this. He indicated it was supposedly reliable information! And a Slytherin third-year told him! He also claimed the guilty parties were also third-years! And we can check the second-years' rooms!"
Snape snorted with displeasure. And that was a deadly eloquent sign that someone had greatly upset him.
"I have no time, Mr. Rookwood, to sort through your fantasies. But since you insist, you have two options. Either you immediately go on a month's detention with me and will clean cauldrons and dissect Flobberworms and other living ingredients, or let the one who deceived you come forward. And then his punishment will be half of yours. Choose."
At that moment, new faces appeared in the Slytherin common room, but these were truly unexpected. None other than Professor McGonagall entered. Beside her, with an impeccably serious expression, walked Adrian Vance. Ah, so that's it…
This smelled of something… foul and vile. What a turkey!
"Severus," McGonagall said, her voice pedantically even, but disapproval clearly readable in it. "I see you are already aware of this egregious violation!
Snape slowly turned to her and, raising his chin even slightly higher, began.
"Minerva. This is an internal matter of my house. And I have already dealt with it. So I am curious as to what brings the Deputy Headmistress and… Mr. Vance here," he pronounced the surname as if tasting something unpleasant, "who, as far as I know, is a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin."
"Mr. Vance is the Head Boy," McGonagall reminded him coldly. "He, showing responsibility, informed me of the situation and sent Mr. Rookwood to warn you. So, have you gotten to the bottom of the truth? What about Mr. Malfoy?"
For the first time since he'd been here, genuine, almost comical bewilderment flickered across Snape's face. Rookwood stared in surprise at Vance, who was trying to maintain his composure.
I was caught… no, I was seriously caught. Merlin's beard… I couldn't have imagined that McGonagall would also get involved. This was within the Head of House's competence and no further! Ohh… she wouldn't let it go so easily, and it was very possible our trick wouldn't work.
"What," Snape said slowly, "does Mr. Malfoy have to do with this?"
McGonagall cast a glance full of unambiguous demand at Vance.
"Mr. Vance? Please repeat what you told me in my office."
Vance was slightly taken aback by this, but stepped forward nonetheless. The bastard didn't want to be caught red-handed being up to his elbows in this, but that's why he shouldn't have gone to McGonagall. Stupid idiot!
"Professor, I… I merely expressed a suspicion based on information that came to me. That among the possible culprits… the name of Mr. Malfoy might appear, as a third-year representative. However, I immediately stipulated that this was merely a version requiring verification, not an accusation. I did not want my words to be taken as a direct argument."
Snape looked at him as if examining a particularly nasty slug at the bottom of a cauldron. Then his gaze swept through the crowd and stopped on me.
"Mr. Malfoy. Come here."
All this time, I had been silently analyzing, and now the picture was clear. I had calculated there was a chance we'd be caught, but not that everything would be spilled to McGonagall. And since Vance was involved and mentioned me, the conclusion was that this was some kind of plan.
Could the Gryffindors also be involved in this? And what a Gryffindor! Even the former Gryffindor prefect himself, Jacob Farmus. Or maybe it was something else entirely… but I doubted it.
McGonagall definitely wouldn't limit herself to formalities. This was no joke. This didn't fit the description of a simple school squabble among Slytherins; rather, it was a real trap.
I approached Snape with confident steps, stopping at a respectful distance. My face bore a mixture of politeness and slight, but noble, indignation. Because I had to appear innocent and offended by these stupid accusations and lies.
"Professor? How may I be of service? I confess, I am somewhat bewildered by what I've heard and would like to know on what grounds Mr. Vance makes such bold assumptions."
Snape placed his hand on my shoulder. And with a slight push, turned me to face McGonagall.
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape spoke, and each word was minted. "Is one of the most diligent and conflict-free students in his year. He has not been noted in any violations. He has been on detention so rarely that he could be held up as an example to other students. Not to mention that an 'Outstanding' grade does not fully express his talent in magic. He not only excels in his studies himself, but has also repeatedly helped his classmates and even younger students, offering his help completely selflessly."
He paused microscopically, letting the words sink in.
"Need I say that Mr. Malfoy has not the slightest reason to lie, intimidate, or take anyone's rooms," after each word, the Head of House seemed to place a period. "He is simply not interested in such things. It is far more reasonable to believe the words of such a student than the unverified tales of some… unknown third-year, who, quite possibly, does not even exist."
"I am perfectly aware of that, Severus," said McGonagall. "However, Mr. Yarwood quite definitely exists, and I think he will not mind telling everything he told Mr. Vance, will he?"
To say I was stunned would be an understatement… All this time, Alistair Yarwood had been walking around like a little mouse, showing he was harmless and non-existent, only to anger me again after all this time!? Damned bastard, spawn of Mordred, I'll kill him!
Rage began to flood my mind, to the point where I had to resort to Occlumency techniques. How furious I was! Did I have to kill every insignificant little person just to be sure they wouldn't get underfoot again!?
I didn't know how this would turn out, but I could see from Rookwood's eyes that exposing their informant wasn't in their plans, but Vance apparently didn't care. And they had me cornered… bastards!
But never mind, everyone would get what they deserved, and Yarwood wouldn't see the light of day. No one likes a rat. The rage began to flare even more intensely when I saw nervous Alistair emerging from the crowd, clearly pale.
And when he glanced at me, and our eyes met, I could directly feel that fear. If a Boggart were here, at that moment it would have taken my form. Ohhh, Yarwood, you seriously messed up.
I looked at him, merely furrowing my brows slightly, but if looks could kill, this piece of troll dung would have burst into a thousand pieces!
Why did some stupid idiot always test my patience, and why did I always want more and more to tear out their eyes and feed their bodies to the thestrals! I hate it! I'll kill… though no, I had to behave… with dignity! Yes… I had to be calmer.
***
POV. Marcus Avery.
Marcus Avery was returning to the common room, feeling a vague satisfaction from a task completed. The Book of Protocols now lay not in the cabinet, but among his personal belongings, as did, by the way, the "Emergency Instructions," which he had also hidden. Of course, without the password, there would only be blank pages, but they were just students. And the professors at Hogwarts weren't just adult wizards, but confirmed Masters in their own, and sometimes related, magical disciplines. In short, better safe than sorry.
However, after he returned, Snape was already there. The air in the common hall rang with the absence of noise, and only the dry, whip-like voice of Professor Snape broke the silence.
And at some point, as they had anticipated, Snape, without much investigation, had almost closed the case. Moreover, they hadn't even mentioned any Council members as culprits, but at that moment, everything went sideways.
Professor McGonagall and Adrian Vance, who shouldn't have appeared in their common room at all, had apparently come for them. More precisely, for Arcturus. Even Arcturus hadn't anticipated this…
"Merlin's beard! We'd only considered the possibility that Snape might be tipped off, and that was just a precaution, like the last of the paranoids… Ark had said Vance might interfere. So much for being prepared…"
Avery was indignant, because all that the two cleverest Slytherins in their year had done was simply ask the prefects to change the room numbers in the placement lists — that is, effectively remove the meeting room from the equation. And the Council's room was listed as their shared room — his, Arcturus's, and Cassius's. A formality, but it should have worked against a superficial check.
But McGonagall… That was another level. Arcturus had thought that if Vance interfered, it would be targeted, through Snape. The Deputy Headmistress personally getting involved in Slytherin squabbles wasn't supposed to happen; that's what Heads of House were for.
Avery, standing by the wall, watched what would happen next.
He understood, of course, that something had to be done. While they were exchanging words, they could protect themselves if a room check began and they realized something was wrong with the numbers. But what to do, Avery hadn't figured out yet. Thoughts raced, and the only way out was to find someone else — together, they could quickly rearrange everything in the meeting room.
And then, from the grey mass of onlookers, like a boil, Alistair Yarwood was squeezed out. Pale, trembling, with the eyes of a hunted animal. McGonagall had named him — and he trudged to the middle of the hall, as if to the gallows. Avery himself hadn't even noticed that this twit was in the hall until that moment. After all, since first year, Yarwood had tried to keep quiet and not attract attention.
"…And why did you have to come out! Sit in your hole, gnaw on your textbooks, and keep your head down. But no, you had to stick your cowardly snout out and make things worse for yourself," Marcus cursed Alistair mentally, and he had already given himself his word: in the near future, whether in a group or alone, he very much wanted to explain to Yarwood, in a very vivid way, why one shouldn't do such things.
Avery's gaze shifted to Arcturus. And he saw what an outsider wouldn't notice, but what was screamingly obvious to Marcus.
Arcturus's jaw muscles were tensed and playing under his skin — as if he were clenching his teeth with force, to the point of cracking. His posture, always so relaxed and confident, was at that moment wooden and unnaturally straight, as if his entire body had become a single bowstring ready to snap. And with his right thumb, he was methodically, almost to the point of drawing blood, peeling the skin from the tip of his index finger.
Apparently, he was trying so hard to calm the rage, to keep from snapping.
He noticed this because Arcturus, back in the autumn, had opened up to him, Avery. Explaining that he had recently begun to suffer from… the Black family's ancestral curse. More precisely, the infamous, according to tales, trait of the ancient and dark House of Black. The so-called Black Rage — all-consuming and uncontrollable.
Of course, Arcturus had warned him not to tell anyone about it. Later, he had also told him about the other thing — about the potential Black inheritance; that's when Marcus understood why his friend had been so furious after that news and the case review.
Despite everything, Marcus accepted it as a given. A person who doesn't always control their emotions is dangerous company. But this was Arcturus Malfoy. The cold-blooded, calculating Arcturus Malfoy, and also his best friend. Some ancient curse seemed just another fact in his dossier, not a real threat or problem. After all, he was even learning to control this rage.
Judging by everything, right now the "taming" was seriously failing. Arcturus was in a fury, just like when those three Gryffindors surrounded him after that newspaper headline. And this time, the trigger was that pathetic Yarwood.
Marcus noticed how Yarwood, meeting his friend's gaze, actually flinched all over and swallowed, as if trying to push down a lump of icy fear. At that moment, something truly… ancient and dark emanated from Arcturus. Perhaps not even hatred, but definitely a need to grind the obstacle into dust.
Arcturus, of course, was trying to appear calm. His face looked almost normal under the mask of noble indignation. But Marcus, who knew the truth, saw the cracks.
But even so, he believed his friend would cope. He had to cope; he had an iron will.
But the situation had to be saved. Marcus had to act before the professors rushed off to check the rooms.
"Need to find Cassius. Or Dexter… or anyone from the Council…" Marcus thought that then they would be able to turn this situation around before it became irreversible.
He stepped back, turned, and headed back towards the boys' dormitory wing. His mind was already feverishly going through options. He had to act fast. And Merlin be his witness, at that moment Avery cast aside all his lazy nature and slowness, ready to do everything to minimize the damage to the Slytherin Council.