Amanda's revenge might have seemed cruel, but the story that would be remembered within the school walls for a long time was nearly complete. Why was Darley the chosen victim? Well, it was she who, at their club meeting, had insulted Amanda with her story about our relationship and engagement. And her friend with the more noble surname, who simply supported her and laughed at Amanda during those demeaning words, met a slightly less cruel but still palpable fate — for who would be friends with a "slut" if not another… right? Of course not. But children are cruel, and teenagers even more so.
I watched as Bullstrode and Darley grew paler with each passing day, how people stopped looking at them, and then began looking with contempt. Their confidence, their arrogance — everything began crumbling to dust under the weight of the massively spread rumors, backed by a simple fact: the girl had broken up with two boys since the start of the school year. And when did she even find the time… pfft-ha.
In short, that's roughly how everyone reasoned, since such a rumor about a fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl had spread if not to the entire school, then certainly to a significant portion of it.
I was, of course, impressed by the scale of Amanda's plan. And although we had finalized it together, this "little snake" had shown that she could bite — and painfully, almost without my help.
Walking down the corridor and hearing yet another whispered retelling of the "story with Selwyn," I allowed myself a smirk.
What had we concocted with Leonard Selwyn? The younger brother of our prefect, with whom I was on friendly terms. Oh, it was very simple. When we devised the plan, we understood: mere rumors, not backed by an amusing story, would quickly fizzle out without gaining the necessary momentum, leaving only a bitter aftertaste for the target. So Amanda decided not to stop at simply spreading rumors. A couple of days after the start, as planned, we involved Leonard in the matter.
All because, during our brainstorming session, I learned for the first time that my fourth-year acquaintance was quite popular among the female half of his house. And Amanda knew from her fifth-year friend that Harriet Bullstrode had long been pining for Leonard. So, walking through the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, Leonard and his friend, played by Cassius, stumbled upon these would-be gossips. And Harriet, hearing Leonard mention her name during their conversation, decided, as usual, to strike up a conversation with him, aiming to flirt. This had always happened, as Leonard had told us beforehand.
But this time, when their conversation with light flirting began, Leonard's friend (Cassius) whispered something to him, after which the boys laughed, and instead of reciprocal pleasantries, Bullstrode received something like:
"You know, I'm a squeamish person, and your friend… Well, never mind… Ahahaha…"
And after such a harsh response, which the rumors naturally embellished considerably, the boys, smirking, walked on. Actually, it was less dramatic and provocative, but in any case, the common room was crowded, and the rumors found fertile, moist ground.
At the Council meeting, we had a grand time listening to the various versions of the resulting tall tales. One rumor was more unflattering than the next. But the society of snakes always demanded a harsh response — and so we responded. A small victory for me, even a warm-up, I'd say. After all, the real games were still ahead. But it was a big victory for Amanda, who decided to conclude this whole saga at another meeting of her club. She asked me to be present near the classroom — to approach at the end of the session and not draw too much attention.
***
The spacious classroom, featuring a large stage and once used for the school's Dramatic Arts Club, might have staged performances every couple of months or at least appeared at feast dinners a few times a year. But due to an incident during Dippet's headmastership, the club had over time lost its purpose, and now a completely different atmosphere reigned here. A barely perceptible bouquet of various perfumes always hung in the air — exclusively feminine and, as a rule, expensive. Now this club was quiet, unproductive, and exclusively female, with the majority of its members from the snake house. If anyone had entered this room today, they might have discovered what was being decided over porcelain cups of bergamot tea, but who would dare…
Among the few, delicate, yet beautiful figures of the fair sex, one could notice Amanda Rosier, sitting with perfect posture, holding her saucer with her pinky finger elegantly extended. Her gaze slid across the faces of the gathered ladies — a dozen select few deemed worthy to attend today's tea party.
They were all ostensibly discussing a new production. Or rather, pretending to. For the word "production" appeared in the air far less frequently than gossip and mutual jabs disguised with verbal lace. Alongside this, the opposite sex was constantly discussed, or rather, certain representatives thereof, and the question of whose lineage was longer and whose fortune more substantial never went unaddressed.
Thanks to the latter point, Amanda was quite respected here, but due to her age, she only occasionally inserted precise, razor-sharp remarks — this was how she typically earned a reputation among the senior representatives of her own house, and to assert superiority, she mostly targeted the few girls from other houses. For she knew well that the most venomous representatives of each house were gathered here. And the snakes were the most venomous of all.
Today, however, the main targets of everyone's teasing, especially Miss Rosier's, were the two fourth-years about whom highly unflattering rumors had been circulating for over a week.
***
POV Amanda Rosier
"Sometimes I learn about certain events from friends, and lately, they've been as terrible as they are true. Isn't that right, Darley?" Amanda said, smiling innocently, savoring how her latest phrase struck the most sensitive spot.
She immediately felt a heavy gaze full of serpentine malice upon her. Clarissa Darley couldn't hide her hatred, while her best friend, Harriet, now sat with her eyes lowered to the pattern on the tablecloth, vainly trying to become invisible. Clarissa, however, did not lower her gaze. Her eyes seethed with the rage of a humiliated predator whose hide had been put on public display. In a week and a half, the rumors had done their work: from a confident schemer, she had turned into an outcast, pointed at by fingers. And, of course, Amanda thought she looked ready to kill her — her presumed source of trouble — with just a glance.
Look, look, bitch, flashed through Amanda's mind with a mad note of pleasure. Burn with helplessness. You thought you could spit on me? You were wrong!
And all this time, Amanda, of course, never forgot to smile nastily at her offenders, savoring their humiliation and demonstrating just how superior she was to them.
But everything ends, and the meeting was drawing to a close. That is, the air filled with false farewells and even falser smiles. Amanda rose last, waiting until almost everyone had left. As she had expected, the two fourth-years had also decided to linger this time.
Perfect. This was exactly what she had counted on. The beautiful blonde, demonstratively slowly adjusting the folds of her robes, left the classroom. She knew what would come next. Fortunately, Arcturus had been warned about this. Although she had no doubt in her ability to fight off two bitches, even in terms of magical prowess.
At the thought of Malfoy, Amanda's fake smile wavered for a second, allowing the world a glimpse of another — a sincere and slightly crazed smile of an infatuated teenager. But she immediately composed herself, for she could maintain her composure like no one else.
The corridor outside the classroom was already empty and, of course, cool — after all, it was a castle, and autumn outdoors. She could feel their hateful presence behind her skin. Clarissa and Harriet were approaching, quickening their pace.
"Rosier!"
Clarissa's voice was choked. Amanda turned, adopting an expression of slight, almost bored curiosity.
"Darley. Forgot something?"
"You… it was you!?" Clarissa stepped forward, her usually pretty face twisted in a grimace of hatred. "You think just because your Malfoy backs you, you can do anything? These filthy rumors… this is your doing, isn't it!?"
Amanda allowed the corner of her lip to twitch into the hint of a smile.
"Two weeks ago, you had a different opinion about our relationship. As for rumors, I don't know what you're talking about; you're the expert there. Although…" she drew out the phrase. "I recently heard from a friend… what terrible things are sometimes said about people. I hope they're completely untrue. Just like those you recently told about me. Remember? You laughed so hard then, as did Harriet, didn't you? Such contagiously stupid laughter… I can't help but compare it to a hyena's."
Clarissa lunged forward. Her hand instinctively reached under her robes for her wand, but Amanda was faster. Much faster. Her wand, like an elegant extension of her will, appeared in her hand as if from nowhere, and the cold tip of the elm wand immediately pressed into the tender skin under Clarissa's chin.
Real panic flared in Darley's eyes. She froze, afraid to move, as did her friend.
"What are you…" she hissed.
Amanda leaned slightly closer and allowed herself a wide smile, full of satisfaction and pride.
"Imper…" the girl began loudly, with theatrical emphasis, looking directly into Clarissa's terror-dilated pupils, savoring every moment. "…ius!"
Clarissa shuddered bodily, expecting an unknown, terrible curse that sounded so much like the Unforgivable. But nothing happened. Only the cold at her throat.
A couple of seconds passed as the panic in Clarissa's and her friend's eyes began to shift to angry realization of the deception. Immediately, Clarissa's free hand lunged for her own wand. Harriet stirred beside her.
But before their wands were ready, the air began to grow heavy, and from the shadow of a niche in the wall, he stepped out.
Arcturus Corvus Armand Malfoy. Her Arcturus. Amanda knew he was here, nearby, which was why she had put on this show, yet her heart still skipped a beat with excitement and triumph. He had seen her victorious. Just like Arcturus, who seemed to always win.
For the girls, he emerged silently, as if materializing from the very darkness of the corridor. He didn't even need to draw his wand. Tall, nearly a head taller than both fourth-years, with stately shoulders that hinted at a toned body far more developed than his peers — all this very effectively concealed any adolescent awkwardness.
Among his contemporaries, perhaps only Warrington and Blackmore could boast a similar build, as they, on his advice, had also started a course of special strengthening potions. But no one possessed this excellent physical condition and this icy, absolute calm, which pressed down harder than any threat. Or was it not just a look, but a gaze backed by something more? Amanda always sensed this hidden power in him, and it drove her crazy, but the two humiliated fourth-years clearly felt something beyond the boy's cold stare. Magic was definitely involved here.
Something warm and sharp pricked Amanda inside at the sight of him. Today she was triumphant. Yes, indeed, she had placed the final touch on her own intrigue and shown it all to Arcturus. To him. The one she had managed to slightly outwit earlier, just to be sure if her feelings were reciprocated.
She hadn't intended anything bad towards him and wouldn't have dared, but the fact remained: she had tested him, played on his feelings, convincing him to help with her revenge. Just the two of them, not the whole Council. She had gotten her way.
The platinum-haired boy who had come to "rescue" her was flawless in Amanda's eyes. She caught herself recalling an almost forgotten feeling — the same one from when they were children, ten years old at the Ministry Ball. When she, talking to this strangely mature boy with the piercing gaze, had shown him her true self, her real character. And he… he hadn't flinched. Hadn't changed his attitude towards her. True, afterward she had donned the mask again — the one her parents had so carefully crafted. Not even before Arcturus had she opened up like that since. But now… now he was her shield and her weapon. The fact that he was here finally convinced her: only she could be by his side. For only she was worthy of the Prince of Slytherin.
These thoughts brought a blush and a stupid, unbidden smile to her lips, but now she could afford to relax — for with his appearance, the two Slytherin girls opposite her simply froze, as if the very air around them had turned to lead. Clarissa's fingers loosened, and her wand nearly slipped to the floor.
"Amanda," his voice came evenly, without raising its tone, but each word was minted and significant. "How about a walk, if you have no further business here?"
He shifted his icy gaze to Clarissa and Harriet.
"And you, ladies, should remember that Miss Rosier is my close friend. Any threat towards her, any attempt to 'settle scores' after class… could end extremely badly for anyone. I trust you've heard about what even a mere third-year can do if he doesn't like someone's behavior, and you won't try to… undertake anything further. Because next time, you won't be dealing with Amanda and her graciously mild methods." Here his gaze slid over the trembling wand in Bullstrode's hand, still aimed at Amanda, and over Amanda's wand pointed at her friend's throat. In the "Prince of Slytherin's" eyes flickered a barely perceptible spark of something that Amanda proudly recognized as approval.
He didn't wait for an answer. He simply nodded slightly to Amanda, signaling her to come. Obeying this silent command with an ease she would allow no one else to deprive her of, Amanda lowered her wand and, full of pride and satisfaction, walked towards Malfoy with a regal gait.
They departed, leaving the two humiliated, crushed girls in the empty, cold corridor. Arcturus's steps were measured and firm, hers — slightly lighter, but equally graceful as herself.
And only when they turned the corner did the pressure, which had come from nowhere, lift. Only then did Clarissa allow herself to exhale. But while Miss Rosier's opponents trembled under the pressure of secretly conjured wandless magic, Amanda was shaken by a different kind of tremor — one of feverish delight. She stole glances at her "rescuer," whom she herself had brought here, and couldn't help but smile from the genuine, burning feelings overwhelming her.
A triumphant whirlwind spun in her head:
I did it. I did it. And also… he came! And he saw! I knew he'd like that I can stand up for myself… I hope he understood that I am the worthy one… He definitely understood… Yes!
Her thoughts repeatedly broke through in an instant, mad, triumphant sparkle, before hiding again beneath the usual mask of a perfect, unruffled Slytherin lady. Well… except that today, besides that same spark of madness she had barely managed to tuck away, she allowed herself to simply be — happy. And this joy, this warmth spreading through her entire being, she did not hide. Only from him. From her Arcturus!