December 15th, 1991
Snow coated the castle grounds as I trekked up the stairwell, finding my way to a hall I had not seen in months. Not since the door refused to open. Not since the Room of Requirement rejected me.
But I gave it another go as I strode up and down the hallway, passing Barnabas over and over again. Once. Twice. Thrice. In my head a single desire was running rampant. In my heart I needed one quality and one quality only.
I needed quiet.
Somewhere the darkness could be allowed to fester until I screamed, somewhere I could scream until my heart froze, somewhere my heart could freeze until I was calm. And this time, the room of hidden things opened. Relief flooded my veins and I felt the tension in my shoulders relax. I wondered, briefly, what was different. Perhaps it was that my desire was no longer malicious –not to the castle anyway. Perhaps someone else had been looking for a safe place. Perhaps the castle had yet to see me as worthy. The latter requires it now sees me as worthy –which is less than likely. It also presumes the castle is sentient, which is a judgment I’m not truly willing to make. Not yet. Wizards? Wands? Magic? Those things are easy -proven really, but this castle, destined to be destroyed and reforged, I am not willing to give thoughts and opinions and value.
Nevertheless, it let me in.
Rather than a padded cell, or dueling area, the room provided a decrepit classroom that was in disarray. On one end were several long tables half stacked on each other three high, with several tables skewed around the rest of the room. Towards the front of the classroom there was a crack in the wall that had been filled in with overgrown vines that seemed to writhed as they creeped along the remainder of the wall, overtaking the board, podium, and what must be a professor's desk.
Briefly I contemplated climbing atop the stacked tables and sitting upon the top one like a throne.
Then I laid down on the cleanest looking one and stared at the ceiling.
Six weeks had passed after that night. And Longbottom had not spoken to me a single time. Though, frustratingly, he still showed up to run —after the snakes. Which was both horrible, because I had to see him every morning and occasionally at night, and flattering, because for some reason a piece of my life had become integral in his even if he didn’t care for the me bit.
To say it hurt would be far from the truth. No. It felt inevitable. As if the laws of this world had decreed no Gryff and snake should mingle, and I had violated a divine decree by doing so. I simply felt cold. Because yes, there is fate —the subtle nudges that show the scenes starting but not forcing them to continue fully— but this must be destiny. Unchangeable.
It filled me with spite for Tibble, though. And I had thought I already disliked him plenty. A line has been crossed. I smiled at the thought of what he’s been through the past weeks.
-
“Locomotor wibbly,” came out as a low hiss from Daphne Greengrass as she discreetly angled her wand at one Harry Potter, watching him stumble and fall to the ground with his minions trying to catch him. None had seen as she slipped back in with a group of Ravenclaw purebloods she’d been chatting with —the jinx hidden by a fallen notebook and a distance of five feet.
She wasn’t sure what happened, not really, but that insufferable Gryffindor —with his stutter and his, ugh, blatant kindness— was hiding from the snakes. She didn’t mind, not really. In fact, she was pleased that he looked miserable everytime Medea was in his vicinity. Maybe this would do the trick and he’d actually stay away. It had been several days already, it made one hope for an eternity.
And, it led to Medea’s cold fury. Which led to a lovely little exchange wherein Draco had told Medea, “Father won’t be pleased if we get caught, you know.”
To which, Medea snorted, “Father is barely pleased now, wait until he finds out Granger's scores. Five galleons he locks us in the study all summer.”
Then a wonderfully feral look crossed her eyes, and her smile was sharp, “Potter is fair game.”
She had, of course, then made it a game. If no one sees you jinx him, you get a point. If someone does see you but there are no house points taken, you don’t get a point. If house points are taken, you lose a point. If you cause Potter to lose any amount of house points, you get the same number. Winner gets to participate in the Yule rites as a member of the main ceremony, as well as knowing they are more cunning than the rest of the snake pit. Loser has to provide the drink for all parties the rest of the year.
Anyone who ends in the negative isn’t allowed to skip study groups or running groups all spring. Daphne laughed to herself as she remembered Theo’s face.
-
“Professor Flitwick, I am concerned about something,” Theo spoke quietly, and with hesitation, “I would bring it to Professor Snape or Professor McGonagal but I’m not wholly sure and I know you impartial and very perceptive.”
For a brief moment, Theodore Nott held his breath, unsure of if it was too much. But the small man before him sobered his mood immediately, putting on a soft yet serious expression. Theo nearly smiled.
“Oh, yes, my dear boy, what is it?”
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
“Well-“ Theo made a show of running his hand through his hair and looking distressed, “I’m concerned Longbottom is being bullied by another Gryffindor.”
The shock on Flitwick’s face is perfect and Theo doubles down. He lets out a frustrated sigh, “Nevermind - this was a mistake. Sorry, Professor, I should have known not to say anything.”
As Theo turns around, Flitwick stops him, “No -no! This was not a mistake. Tell me more, Mr. Nott.”
Inside, Theo is grinning like a madman as he tells a tale of how Longbottom has been skittish more than usual around Potter. About how Potter hated that Longbottom seemed friendly with a small number of Slytherin’s —and now they are so concerned for him. That Potter has taken it upon himself to use his status to pressure Longbottom. It, altogether, is a rather fun tale to tell, Theo thinks.
When he leaves, though, Flirwick has a sour expression on his face and Theo isn’t wholly sure if it worked.
Until he hears how Potter keeps losing points in charms -9 points over a week.
-
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were not allowed to participate.
-
“Repercusio.”
“Aguamenti.”
“Raptim manus.”
“Cruor lacrimae.”
“Professor, just look at Longbottom. He has done something.”
A shove from a girl who looked similar to Pansy in a blue accented robe.
Missing papers.
Harry was a slow building pressure. An insanity all his own.
-
I stared up at the grey stone ceiling, letting the numbness consume me as my smile faded. The satisfaction at watching the snakes terrorize Tibble from the shadows was waning. At first it had given me a vindictive glee. Now it was as hollow as anything else.
I sat in the room of requirement the rest of the afternoon, thinking about the nature of time. And the futility of fighting against destiny. I thought of how, to me, time is both frozen and speeding by. How I have a crystallized version of the past in my head to retreat to should the present prove to difficult. I thought of the defeated look on Longbottom’s face, on accident. And brought up the memory in its entirety along with it. As soon as it flitted j to my mind, a forced retelling of betrayal, I realized I had been a fool. I should have known something larger was at play. Why else would one of Tibble’s followers hand back.
Only Longbottom hadn’t been a follower. And, maybe, that had made it hurt a bit more than I liked to lead on. Possibly.
Then, when I realized the sun was setting and I had skipped Defense on accident, I rose and returned to the snakes.
-
“Surprisingly, the winner is our very own Theodore Nott —with 23 points.” Draco proclaimed, his voice projecting across the common room as he tallied the most recent points Flitwick took from Tibble —which, strictly speaking, could not be proven to be because of Theo but was a close enough result of his machinations that we happily gave to him. Or unhappily in Daphne’s case. Nevertheless, Theo preened.
“The loser is…” Draco drummed his rings, “Pansy Parkinson! With -17 points!”
Pansy groaned, she had gotten caught twice and lost house points.
“Oh looks like Pans gets to learn to run,” I gave her a feral grin. Of fondness, truly. What kind of snake would I be if I relished in her misery? A truthful one.
Pansy looked at me with detestation in her eyes before groaning again, “Psychopathic gremlins! All of you!”
“I told you it was a losing game,” Blaise huffed, he himself had opted not to participate.
“I do not like to be told who to harass,” Blaise had boldly proclaimed, before promptly hexing a Ravenclaws homework to only be legible to the writer when the claw had left it unattended next to us. It was at least nice to know it was not a moral objection.
Vincent and Greg were devastated they couldn’t get points, but that had not stopped them from insulting Tibble whenever they interacted or laughing at his misfortune. Dorothea was not invited to the game.
In fact, the only points getting participants were Theo, Millie, Daphne, and Pansy.
Millie hardly cared, but she did get 5 points for two jinxes and the loss of 3 Gryffindor house points when a third jinx had him speaking in opposites to a professor.
Daphne had truly been thrilled. From simple Potions accidents to convincing several distant cousins in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff to help. Not to mention the sheer amount of times she hexed Tibble. She had 17 points. She took dark amusement form his misfortune.
None of them brought up why, after Draco and I had not bothered overmuch with him for the first half of term, we had decided to hold this competition. Likely for the same reason Millie and Daphne never brought up that Longbottom no longer runs with me. It came too close to being vulnerable—and it would take more than three months for a bunch of snakes to allow themselves that.
Draco and I did not participate for the sole fact that I did not want to be associated with Tibble should we get caught. That and we are already in the main ceremony for Yule. Well, as I already ran every day —it was my running group. And Draco already joined every study group —that was his.
As a Christmas gift to my least favorite Gryffindor, and also my preferred Gryffindor —Longbottom had been looking especially anxious the last week when Daphne was particularly vicious with her hex and Tibble had fallen down a few steps, today had been the last day of the competition.
Time passed.
By the end of the week, several things occurred:
1. Draco and I returned to the Manor
2. Most of the Snakes accepted the invitation to Yule
3. I sent a single letter to one Marshal O. Millwood with a simple delivery to be made to Hogwarts over break