POV. Torbin Rookwood
They say revenge is a dish best served cold. And this time, Torbin Rookwood and those who had conceived this revenge — or rather, simply a strike against an overbearing third-year — had long been unable to reach a common decision, as they couldn't latch onto anything substantial, nor agree with each other.
He and his friend, Crone, wanted to avenge their comrade. Although there was no real friendship between the three of them — in his opinion, friendship in Slytherin was impossible — they had to avenge their acquaintance, if only because this Malfoy had once slandered him, and according to rumors, Answorth was even dead due to the Malfoy family's fault. But it had to be done very carefully, to avoid repercussions after school.
That's how Torbin justified his passivity in seeking revenge to the Gryffindors, who, only towards the end of the summer, at that meeting arranged by Answorth despite all the school enmity, finally understood everything, including Jacob Farmus.
He hadn't seen Benedict since that day. What's more, they were probably the last ones to see Benedict, because literally the next evening he learned that the Answorth couple was dead, and Benedict himself had vanished without a trace. He hadn't lingered in Diagon Alley that evening for nothing.
Even he, Torbin, didn't fully believe that a younger student could pull something like that, but like Farmus, he had witnessed a literal admission of guilt that day.
A simple rental of a Pensieve in a Diagon Alley shop opened the eyes of all doubters and non-believers in this version.
Answorth was gone, but now the sixth-years, led by the Head Boy, united for different reasons but with one goal — to take revenge on Malfoy and bring him down to earth — gathered to collectively decide and plan everything in such a way as not to expose themselves and yet cause problems for Malfoy. After all, it was dangerous to become an enemy of the future head of the Malfoy family; he might remember, and when he grew up, it would come back to haunt them. Therefore, they had to be either only indirectly involved or not appear at all, which was unrealistic, since the Malfoy heir had many "friends," everywhere.
The only thing Rookwood, no matter how long he thought, couldn't figure out was Vance's motive, the Head Boy's. Just maintaining order at school, as befits a prefect? It sounded dubious, and the Slytherin understood that.
But they had long been unable to reach a decision. They had gathered so many times, and in the end, they just argued with each other and dispersed, deciding nothing. Only three days ago, on the first day of winter, December first, they finally managed to find evidence. More precisely, he himself managed to convince Alistair Yarwood to help in this matter, and Yarwood told them about Malfoy.
Fortunately, Rookwood had happened to overhear that Alistair had been at odds with Malfoy since their first year, which meant, unlike other third-years, he would talk to him and might even reveal some inside information.
As it turned out later, the Quidditch team captain had good instincts. Of course, Torbin and Crone knew about some kind of "Council," imagining it simply as a gathering of children exchanging rumors and showing off, but when Yarwood told them at this meeting how deep the rabbit hole went, everyone finally agreed on a solution to the problem, and quickly without quarrels.
And quarrels between representatives of two conflicting houses happened even in the presence of the Head Boy and with a single common goal.
And now it was time to serve the cold dish.
He was even tense, as if during a match he saw that both Seekers were dangerously close to the Snitch, but the score favored the opposing team, even considering the caught Snitch.
In short, the sixth-year was worried. But a plan was a plan, which meant he had to play it through to the end. The third-year absolutely did not want to agree to the role of the snitch who would tell Snape everything… none of the acquaintances he could trust agreed for obvious reasons. So it all fell on him.
He knocked, and soon the door of the Potions Master's private office, where Professor Snape usually brewed potions in his free time from teaching duties, opened. He slipped out of the room so quickly that the aroma of unusual but very pungent smells barely touched the Slytherin's nose. And it seemed Snape was extremely displeased that his work had been interrupted, even when he was in his private office, closed to all, during his free time.
***
Adrian Vance, a seventh-year Ravenclaw, but more importantly, the Head Boy, stood before the oak door of one of the offices, more precisely the private office where, as always, even on Sunday, the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, was located.
"Enter," came the curt, familiar voice of the Head Boy's direct superior, so to speak.
Professor McGonagall sat at her desk, immersed in a pile of parchments. Her sharp gaze rose over her spectacles at the entering student.
"Mr. Vance. What can I do for you? Your classes are over for today, and you gave your weekly activity report two days ago."
Adrian stepped forward, his face expressing the concern and responsibility befitting a Head Boy.
"Professor, I've come about a very delicate matter. As Head Boy, I consider it my duty to report unconfirmed but extremely important information I heard recently: in the Slytherin common room, according to my information, blatant injustice is occurring, and the house prefects, apparently, are either not coping and don't know the whole truth, or are turning a blind eye."
McGonagall actually put down her quill; her posture became even straighter, if that were possible.
"Are you going to tell me rumors now, Mr. Vance?" the Deputy Headmistress looked at the boy skeptically, with a hint of reproach.
"I apologize, but this is an emergency, even if only part of the information is true."
"Alright, since you deemed it necessary, continue, Mr. Vance, I'm listening. But please, without personal emotions… calmly."
"It concerns the dormitories in the Slytherin common room, Professor. I've learned that a group of third-years, led by an extremely self-confident student… took a room away from second-years! And then redistributed them into the rooms of their friends and subordinates of some incomprehensible 'Council'."
The professor's eyebrows rose towards her hairline.
"Taking over dormitories!? This is outrageous! Why are the victims silent? Why haven't they gone to the prefects or Head of House? Haven't the prefects found out about this yet? Or is this still slander, Mr. Vance?"
Questions poured from the shocked McGonagall.
"I also doubted the words of the student who informed me. However, I'm not sure about the prefects' competence or non-involvement in this situation, Professor," Adrian replied, carefully choosing his words. "This third year… and their 'leader,' apparently, is very aggressive, and his classmates are afraid of him. He acts as he pleases. And when my acquaintance, an upper-year, tried to make inquiries… well, to find out if it was true, he was hinted that it was 'internal house business' and none of his concern. But I consider this a blatant violation of all rules! It goes beyond ordinary quarrels, and there's an age difference! And this group, as I've heard, tries to recruit everyone younger than them into this 'Council' of theirs, apparently some kind of interest club."
Minerva McGonagall rose from her chair. Her face was frozen in surprise and shock.
"This is completely unacceptable! Such behavior undermines the very foundation of school discipline! This must be reported immediately to Professor Snape as Head of House."
Adrian nodded, maintaining a dignified appearance.
"Absolutely agree, Professor. I was, in fact, going to Professor Snape. But, considering the scale of the violations and the possible bias of house self-governance, I decided that the Deputy Headmistress should also be aware — so that justice prevails quickly and surely. And I've already asked the Head of Slytherin house to be warned through their Quidditch team captain, Mr. Rookwood. He seems to me a principled man."
"You did the right thing, Mr. Vance," McGonagall nodded, taking off her spectacles. Her gaze became piercing. "But I have a very important question. Do you know who exactly is the instigator of this… egregious violation?"
"Professor… only a guess, and I don't want to slander if it turns out to be false. I wouldn't want anyone to know it was me who told. A third-year student told me about it, and without a specific name. I'm afraid of being mistaken, of course, but among the third-years there is one very… aggressive and self-confident student. He thinks everything is permitted for him."
"State the name, Mr. Vance," McGonagall demanded in a stern tone, without further delay.
Adrian pretended to force the name out with difficulty.
"Mr. Malfoy, Professor. Arcturus Malfoy. But I'm… not sure. It's just a version based on rumors, hints, and my intuition."
Genuine disappointment flickered on Minerva McGonagall's face. She tilted her head back, like a cat in surprise. She clearly hadn't expected to hear that name.
"Mr. Malfoy…" she said it with bitterness. "I hope this is just rumor, as he is a very intelligent and talented young man. One of the best in his year! I still see his diligence in lessons. Could he really be capable of such… petty, cruel tyranny? No, this must be stopped! If this is true, I must verify it. Mr. Malfoy doesn't seem capable of such things to me."
She rose decisively.
"Come, Mr. Vance. We are going immediately to the Slytherin common room and will clarify this situation together with Professor Snape. An investigation must be conducted, and if it's true, return the rooms to the affected second-year students. And punish the culprit with the full severity of the rules!"
"Professor… before we go, I… want to say that the third-year who told me about this asked me not to reveal his identity. I would also like to ask you for confidentiality."
McGonagall frowned even more.
"Unheard of! Mr. Vance, you are about to finish Hogwarts and are the Head Boy, what do you have to fear at the end of the day? You, as an honest and fair person, should be seen as a role model."
For a second, the Head Boy's face twisted in displeasure and disappointment, but he tried hard to hide it, which he almost immediately managed to do.
"But… but…" he didn't have time to say anything before McGonagall continued.
"My advice to you, fear is a poor counselor, however, I of course understand the position of the third-year who told you everything. But if the accusations are true, only the culprit will be punished. And if they are false… then the one hiding their name bears responsibility for slander in any case. I won't hide the name of the Head Boy; don't be afraid of being wrong about the guilty party, such things happen, and no one will blame you. And your… 'informant's' name will be hidden. But first, tell me who it is."
"I understand, Professor. But I gave my word…" Adrian lowered his gaze, artfully depicting an internal conflict.
"Mr. Vance, in such a serious matter, it's unbecoming for you as Head Boy to hide such things! In case of slander, I will punish the guilty party; you don't want to be that, do you!? Stop delaying, state the name. Professor Snape and I guarantee him protection and… secrecy. This is the only way to get to the truth."
Adrian pretended to make a decision with difficulty.
"It's… Alistair Yarwood, Professor. Third-year Slytherin."
McGonagall nodded, memorizing the name and recalling this student from her classes.
***
Surprisingly, the day had been calm. So calm that I allowed myself to simply sit in my favorite corner of the Slytherin common room.
In my hands was a book. A thick, worn-out volume meant simply to unload my brain after the school day. More precisely, it was entertainment literature, analyzing theories about the seven main mysteries of magic in a popular science style. In short, local pop-science for those who knew the fundamentals, but on a superficial level.
Why not something more useful? Because there was no real silence here, and I didn't want to put up a bubble. The whole atmosphere would be muffled, and then what was the point of coming out into the common room? Silence in the Slytherin common room is fundamentally impossible, even despite its enormous size. Silence here is a relative concept. It's more of a background of dozens of muffled voices, rustling pages, the scrape of moving chairs, and restrained laughter.
My brain, honed over years for constant analysis of the surrounding space, automatically sifted through this noise. That's why I wasn't really reading at all. I was looking at the lines, while part of my consciousness caught fragments of conversations, picked up intonations, noted who was whispering with whom and how often they threw glances in my direction. In short, I was eavesdropping as usual, because it was always amusing and I couldn't do otherwise… Next to me sat Avery, who was actually reading some book on basic artifact creation.
I'm surprised how people can concentrate at all, even with such quiet "noise"…
Everyone today was discussing the snow, which had only today covered the ground. How quickly time flies. For show, I skimmed my gaze over another passage of text. As if only yesterday it was October with its Samhain, and now it's already the fourth of December. And very soon it will be winter holidays already.
And after that, finally… finally my hands would be truly untied. The main thing was that my father didn't make a fatal mistake at the last moment. My chance to start gaining weight in every sense would become possible as soon as I became legally capable thanks to the title of Lord Black. By saying "legally capable," I mean not only that when I become a full Lord, I'll automatically become an "adult" in the eyes of the law, but also in terms of finances and political power.
I would literally get millions, or rather even tens of millions of Galleons into my hands, extensive knowledge of Britain's most ancient and darkest family in the form of the entire family library, and also a vote in the Wizengamot.
I remember once stumbling upon an article saying that investing even a couple of hundred bucks in Microsoft stocks in the nineties would secure millions in the future, so what if the investments were much more than a couple of hundred bucks—and that's just one example?
Even the damaged memory of that ordinary person's life, who understood the topic at the level of "watched a couple of investment videos," knew in one way or another about many future events; what's more, it was more about logic and knowing the names of mega-corporations that were gradually gaining momentum in the digital field. This would allow me to acquire a decent amount of assets, on top of those already possessed by a family like the Blacks. Any way you look at it, any wealthy magical family, one way or another, owned enterprises in the Muggle world or held stakes in such enterprises.
Honestly, the thought of the Azkaban prisoner's case constantly hung over me. I mentally ran through all the stages of this sophisticated bureaucratic war my father was waging. Every time my father thought the scheme was honed to perfection, and every time the system spat out a new loophole for Dumbledore. And then, my father again found a way to prolong everything. In short, a real bureaucratic war was being waged; the main thing was that it didn't escalate to another level. Otherwise, Dumbledore knew how to solve things in an adult way, and I feared we wouldn't like such methods.
But if Sirius was freed before my fourteenth birthday, what was I supposed to do then? Either try to kill a pretty decent fighter, who would be watched by Dumbledore and his people, or take a risk, starting to create capital separate from the Malfoy family right now.
I needed access to huge finances for all my projects and as early as possible, even for the same project with Louis… stop! What project!?
After these thoughts, something inside my head itched, and I also remembered that my beloved grandmother Walburga, who, by the way, was my mother's aunt, had promised in her personal will that only after its fulfillment would I receive some object, perhaps a gift. And my soul had a feeling it would be another dirty trick.
While I was deep in thought, the world didn't wait. Flint approached me. From my spot, I couldn't even see the entrance corridor to the common room, so I only noticed him when he was almost next to me.
"Snape and Rookwood are coming here now, so don't be surprised," he warned; I nodded to him, and he went on his way. The name Rookwood immediately made me understand that the day would apparently not be calm.
"Avery, did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" he looked up from his book, looking at my face. "That Torbin is coming with Snape? Yes, and I have a feeling I know why."
"You could have been less sarcastic."
"That's true," although Marcus didn't show it at first, he had certainly perked up from the excitement. "I hope your trick works with Snape… apparently this Torbin found out about the room."
"Snape won't particularly investigate if Torbin accused me specifically, and Foley and Selwyn have been warned and will smooth things over."
"If you say so, I believe you," he said finally and, sighing, returned to his reading.
"Hey! Quickly go to us and hide all incriminating books from the shelves, to yourself. If the trick doesn't work, it will all fall on my head. No, I could of course blame you, but you don't want that, do you?"
"Well… I'm so lazy, it'll be safer in your bag," and then, meeting my reproachful gaze, he quickly got up and went to hide everything. "Yes, yes, I know they might search you if he ratted everything out."
Meanwhile, I changed my spot to have a view of the entrance corridor. Generally, right after the entrance to the common room, there was a small corridor leading to a half-turn spiral staircase down, made of marble, which descended straight to a beautiful fountain near the stairs, and then — a notice board and a small area set apart by decor, which expanded into a hall, or as we called it, the common room. And from the common room, an equally huge space with stairs branched off in two directions, respectively, the boys' wing and the girls' wing, but that's not the point.
Soon two figures appeared: a displeased Snape with a face contorted by sparse emotion, and Rookwood, who couldn't hide his smirk. But never mind, even if Snape caught me — everything would be fine, and he wouldn't catch me, because he wouldn't particularly untangle this matter.
As a true Slytherin, he adhered to the idea that, as in his day, Slytherins should deal with their own affairs themselves, so our Quidditch team captain would definitely not finish school with an "Outstanding" in Potions, if he even took it after fifth year.