The Serpentine Chain Part 1 - Year Of The Snake

The Serpentine Chain Part One

Chapter One - Year of the Serpent

"Two new teachers," Constance Malfoy whispered to her neighbour, Richard Marlowe. Looking away from where the Slytherin first years were gathered at the foot of the table, the brown haired sixth year glanced up towards the staff table. Headmaster Dippet was making his usual start of term speech - welcoming the new students and running through the rules and regulations of the school. There were indeed two new additions to the staff. A tall, thin man with untidy brown hair was sitting in between the Potions master and the Head of Ravenclaw, Lydia Grey. He was tapping his fingers on the table, somewhat nervously. At the other end of the table there was a woman, red hair scraped severely back into a chignon, dressed immaculately in expensive looking charcoal grey robes.

"One's got to be Divination," Richard whispered back. "Haven't a clue who the other one is, though."

A pale faced boy sitting on the other side of Constance leaned forwards slightly, and broke in, saying, "The scared looking one is Christopher Cale - he's taking the upper years for Chantwork."

"Singing?!" whispered Richard, horrified. His musical inability was well known to Slytherin students.

The pale boy smirked, pushing back long dark hair from his face. "It's not a compulsory course, don't worry. Students who don't study Ancient Runes aren't eligible anyway - you need to be proficient in that to read the Chant scripts."

Richard Marlowe relaxed somewhat, to Constance's amusement. Brilliant at anything involving numbers, he'd taken Arithmancy instead of Ancient Runes. Changing the subject, he whispered "What house, do you think?"

"Ravenclaw, definitely," said Constance, in tones that would brook no argument. "He looks like one."

Aurelius Snape nodded. "He was friends with my cousin when they were students here. That's how I know him - he's visited once or twice."

"That takes the tally of staff with Ravenclaw tendencies up to three then," mused Constance. "We're still underrepresented. Typical."

"Three ex-Gryffindors - four if you count Dippet - but what about the Hufflepuffs? They've only got Bloom to look out for them," Richard asked.

"What about the Hufflepuffs?" murmured Aurelius, the corner of his mouth quirking. The others grinned.

"They don't need representing," Constance scoffed. "They've got no House pride whatsoever. As competitive as turtles, the lot of them. But we've only got two ex-Slytherins amongst the staff to look out for us. There's a deliberate pro-Gryffindor bias. It's discrimination!"

Aurelius was gazing at the new female teacher, chewing his lip. "My cousin never said anything about her. She's got to be the Divination teacher."

"Dippet'll tell us in a minute," Richard said. "He's nearly finished blathering on about Hogsmeade."

They looked at the Headmaster, who was drawing Rules Regarding Extra Curricular Outings and Activities to a much longed for conclusion.

"And finally, I must ask you all to welcome our new members of staff," Dippet said, beaming at the assembled students. The man - Cale - flinched almost imperceptibly at this, Constance noticed, but the woman remained impassive. "Professor Cale will be taking elective Chantwork for the NEWT students, and Professor Haven is of course, the new Divination teacher. I need hardly say that I hope they are made to feel most welcome at Hogwarts."

There was polite applause.

Aurelius turned back to his friends. "The Havens - they're a very old wizarding family. She might be Slytherin-friendly."

"My uncle seems to like her," Constance pointed out, and in truth, the usually unsociable Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was talking to Professor Haven with great enthusiasm. The youngest of three brothers, he had been involved in various enterprises only just verging on respectable, and had been forced into teaching by her grandfather, in order to avoid scandal. "And he's pretty hard to please."

"Brilliant," Richard said, satisfied. "That's our marks sorted for DADA, Potions and Divination then."

"What do you mean, Potions?" asked Aurelius. "My cousin's a Ravenclaw. He'll only put family first - which is right and proper and as it should be," he added, sniggering. "Not that my marks need boosting."

"God knows we could do with a proper Divination teacher," Constance said thoughtfully. "Lockhart was appalling."

Richard's eyes lit up. "Constance Malfoy.....I sense....much excitement in your tealeaves...a turbulent time is ahead of you...Venus...the planet of love .....danger and romance lurk in every corner...isn't Orion sparkling tonight? Just like your eyes my dear.....love is just around the corner...I have foreseen it!"

"Shut it Marlowe!" snapped Constance, instantly going red. "He was just an old fraud."

"A very good looking old fraud," Aurelius said casually. "Not my type, of course, but I hear the Malfoy family aren't picky. Disgrace to the wizarding community, if you ask me."

The two boys collapsed in laughter. Constance folded her arms and glared into her pumpkin juice, ignoring the treacherous twitching of her lips.

"If you would kindly stop chattering," she said acidly, "I'm quite interested to see who's going to be Head Boy and Girl this year. Of course, if you're not interested, if you don't care whether a Slytherin has been picked or not..."

"Yes, Minerva," muttered Richard, but subsided.

Armando Dippet had been talking about the duties and responsibilities of the Head students in such detail that even the most conscientious student would have been hard pressed to feign interest. Despite this, House Slytherin had a vested interest in his speech. Gryffindor and surprisingly, Hufflepuff had been hogging the damn positions. It had been eight years since one of their own had been nominated, a deliberate slight according to Constance. And now, according to the Serpent rumour mill, Felix DuPré was in the running, thanks to Professor de la Tour's constant plugging.

"It gives me great pleasure to announce that Amber Vetinari is Head Girl," said Dippet, smiling in the general direction of the Ravenclaw table. There was enthusiastic applause around the Great Hall - Amber was well liked.

"My money's on Verity Black," muttered Constance bitterly. "He's Godric's Golden Boy." She wasn't alone in her feelings - across the Hall, the Gryffindors were already congratulating Black. A trifle premature, she thought, and scowled.

Dippet continued. "And last but not least, I give you Felix DuPré as Head Boy. My congratulations to both of you."

Looking across the Hall at the disgruntled face of Verity Black, Constance smirked. The Slytherin table erupted into applause. Felix DuPré was grinning openly, and even Professor de la Tour looked slightly less impassive than usual.

The noise lasted all night, despite the best efforts of the newly responsible Head Boy.

It was going to be Slytherin's year.

The Serpentine Chain Part One

Chapter Two - Predestination

The new Divination teacher did a lot to compensate for the school's pro-Gryffindor policy, in Constance's opinion. Within the first five minutes of the lesson, Professor Elspeth Haven had docked ten points from Gryffindor House on behalf of certain students who'd found it extremely amusing to comment on the phonetic properties of the word Uranus.

"I would not have expected such behaviour from students your age," she'd said softly. "Perhaps you do not have the mental acuity necessary to study Divination - it requires concentration, not juvenile attempts at humour."

Stuart Coombes, the offending student had flushed, his face turning almost as red as his hair. He stared down at his hands. Constance smirked as she saw the grimaces on the faces of the Gryffindors.

"Perhaps," Professor Haven continued, her voice cold, "perhaps the removal of ten House points will help you focus? Do you think that would work, Stuart?"

Stuart mumbled something unintelligible. The teacher's eyes glinted.

"I don't think I quite caught that, Stuart."

"Yes Professor," he muttered.

"I'm glad you understand. Now if we could proceed with the lesson without any further interruptions," she said, moving around the classroom to stand by her desk, "I would be most gratified."

"Better than Lockhart, eh Constance?" murmured Richard, pretending to polish his jade runestones.

"Ssh, you're missing it," urged Constance. Ignoring the grin on her friend's face, she tucked her short white blonde hair behind her ears and tried to look as efficient and receptive to learning as possible.

"Divination as I teach it is vastly different to the tea party tricks that you have no doubt been learning for the past few years," Professor Haven said. "And yet, it is not an exact science. The Sight - the true art of Seeing the future - is very rare, and almost impossible to control. It cannot be taught to those who do not have the skill for it. It requires the ability to delve into the subconscious areas of the mind in order to seek and analyze what dreams may come. Careful meditation is essential in enhancing the clarity of the dreams. At some point during the year, I will be testing you all for the Sight. Those of you - if any - who are found to possess it, will be taught how to deal with the ability. It is not an easy gift. Those without will continue with normal Divination lessons. The Sight is not necessary for palmistry, astrology, stone casting, tarot reading, or anything involving tea leaves."

A hand shot up. Miryum Chandler, a dark haired Gryffindor, looked desperate to start proving she knew more than simple tea party tricks.

"Please Professor, is the Sight necessary for scrying?" she asked earnestly.

"No. Wizarding ability is all that is needed. Naturally, a Muggle couldn't scry. Nor could they cast a true horoscope, much as they would like to pretend otherwise. Magical blood is essential."

Constance put her hand up, causing Richard to look at her in amusement. "Is the Sight necessary for visionweaving?" she asked.

She got a few puzzled glances from a few students for this, although Miryum Chandler was looking appreciative. Professor Haven smiled approvingly.

"Visionweaving is worthy of study purely for its own sake," she said quietly. "Specialists in it were once highly sought after, highly paid - and very short lived. The Sight is a part of it, but Seers must also be trained in weaving techniques. Seeing whilst weaving causes the prophecy or omen to gain a tangible shape in the tapestry, and the works produced by visionweavers are masterpieces of art and Sight combined."

Constance was about to speak further, when she was interrupted.

"Are there any living visionweavers now?" asked a tall, black haired boy with vivid turquoise eyes. "Or were they all targeted during Grindelwald's rise to power?"

A shadow crossed Professor Haven's face, whilst several students flinched at the Slytherin's mention of Grindelwald.

"No," the teacher replied, after a brief pause. "Visionweavers were few enough to begin with. The effort needed to sustain prolonged periods of trance burns up tremendous amounts of energy. It literally takes years off a weaver's life. Grindelwald was incredibly thorough in tracking weavers down, and those captured died when he forced them to spend unnatural periods of time in trance. If there are any left living, they are keeping very low profiles."

The boy subsided, curiosity apparently satisfied. Constance finished copying what Professor Haven had said, and looked up to see Richard's bewildered glance.

"What? Some of us actually bothered to read last year's set texts you know," she snapped, but quietly so the teacher wouldn't hear.

"I'm sure you did, Connie darling," drawled Richard. "You were Heathcliffe Lockhart's model student after all. So hardworking. So dedicated. So eager to read Seeing with Seers, or Making rugs with Visionweavers, or whatever it was."

"Actually it wasn't a Lockhart book," Constance sniffed, and turned back to Professor Haven who had begun to write on the blackboard.

"During the next few weeks, we will be covering the underlying theories behind Divination - beginning with Predestination," the teacher said. "Can we alter the future if we know what is coming? Will speaking about what we have foreseen have any effect upon the future?"

"Does that mean we can warn people, if we see bad luck for them?" asked Peter Odell, a small Gryffindor with an incredible amount of freckles.

Professor Haven smiled mirthlessly. "Would they be able to avoid their fate if they knew it?"

The boy who'd asked about visionweavers was chewing his quill and gazing thoughtfully at Professor Haven, a slight crease on his forehead.

"Is it true," he said, not putting his hand up, "that we have no choices over our own actions at all? That our fates are mapped out for us?"

"Oh God, Riddle's at it as well. He's caught philosophy," moaned Richard under his breath. "I hate philosophy."

Constance shot him a look, half amused, half annoyed. "Then why did you take Divination," she asked. "Thought it'd be an easy option?"

Richard didn't answer, but glared at his innocent runestones.

Professor Haven gazed back at Riddle coolly.

"That is one argument," she said. "Some people believe that we have no control over our lives, that every choice we make has already been decided for us. For good or evil." She paused, and looked around the class. "In which case, of course, there is nothing that we can do to change what fate has mapped out for us."

"Do you believe that?" asked the boy, twirling his quill absentmindedly between long white fingers.

Professor Haven stared at him for a moment. "I believe in free will. We are the masters of our fate." Then she smiled coldly. "And what will be shall be," she added.

Tom Riddle lowered his head slightly. The rest of the class looked puzzled.

Constance frowned, staring at the back of Tom's head. Had she missed something? We are the masters of our fate, we decide for ourselves. But everything is preordained. Professor Haven had contradicted herself. How could you believe two completely opposite things? It didn't make sense.

Preoccupied with the paradox, she hardly listened as the teacher set the week's homework. Her hand copied it down automatically. As the class filed out of the room, chattering eagerly about the new Quidditch season, she found herself next to Tom Riddle. He seemed somewhat distracted as well, smiling slightly to himself, as if at a joke no-one else could understand. It struck her that his question had, in fact, been rather personal.