The Serpentine Chain Part 1 - Year Of The Snake

The Serpentine Chain Part One

Chapter Five -- A Safe Haven

The Slytherin common room was blessedly quiet. Quidditch practice, Constance thought, as she glowered over her Chantwork books. Her fellow Slytherins were either whizzing about on brooms, or making sure that there were no stray Gryffindors around to see things they shouldn't. She sniggered to herself -- Quidditch espionage, honestly. But it was very useful having the common room to herself for once. She could practice pentatonic scales to her heart's content, without Richard or Aurelius laughing at her voice. I'm not that bad, she muttered, frowning.

Examine the use of the pentatonic scale within healing chants, and say why it is so effective,

she read, and sighed. There was no doubt about it -- Professor Cale was a sadist. Her heart sank as she looked at her class notes. An elaborate doodle of a snake covered almost an entire page. It had green and silver scales, and a forked tongue. Salazar Slytherin would have been proud.

"Healing chants ... Medicus, Tranquillus, Dormius ..." she murmured, ticking them off on her fingers. She tried and failed to repress the grin that burst into existence at the memory of Professor Cale's overly successful lesson. Good job she'd been in Care of Magical Creatures at the time, well away from Hogwarts and the insidious chanting of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. As Aurelius said, it was okay to laugh because it hadn't happened to them. Had she been lulled asleep, she thought, she'd have been as annoyed as her uncle. Dignity must be maintained at all times, he'd said, imagine falling asleep in front of Verity Black, or Andrew Potter. Or any of the Gryffindors for that matter. Slytherins don't sleep. Unless it's on Slytherin terms, she told herself, as she coloured in the eyes of the coiling snake.

Aurelius' cousin hadn't been much happier than her uncle - yet all Quintus Snape had done was to smile faintly at his friend in a vaguely smug way whenever he'd seen him, and Cale had been eyeing his pumpkin juice suspiciously ever since. It had been a source of amusement for the Slytherins In The Know. Poor Cale, she thought, then shrugged. At least she and Aurelius had had the rest of the day off.

Whilst she was thus occupied, the door slid open. Tom Riddle walked in, carrying a ridiculous amount of books. Only a brief flicker of his eyes revealed his surprise at seeing her there by the fire.

"I know it's heretical of me -- but I really can't be bothered to watch the Quidditch practice today," she said in response to the unspoken question in his face.

"Quidditch," he said dismissively. "There are more important things to do."

"Do you need a hand with those books?" Constance asked. "You seem to have brought the library with you."

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "If you want. Thanks."

She hurried over and grabbed two of the oversized books that were teetering precariously on top of many more. "Where do you want me to put them?" she asked, as she looked at the titles.

Double Predestination: A Wizarding Perspective -- Erasmus Haven

Beyond Good and Evil -- Friedrich Nietzsche

She was impressed despite herself. "I didn't realise we kept Muggle books in the library."

The tall student dumped the rest of his books onto the desk with a determined thud. "They aren't Muggle books," he said scornfully. "Muggle books would not have "A Wizarding Perspective" written on them. Nor was Erasmus Haven a Muggle."

Constance felt rather stupid. "I thought Nietszche was -- "

"He was a halfblood," Tom said coldly. "His mother was a witch. His father was a German pastor. As far as I'm aware."

"Erasmus Haven -- he must be related to Professor Haven?" Constance said, changing the subject.

"I would have thought you would have known that," murmured Tom. "Wizarding genealogy is your family's strong point, surely."

Constance shrugged. "I could check Wizarding Families In England And Europe - it has the family trees of all purebloods in it. It stretches back centuries."

Tom was silent.

"These books are for Divination, aren't they?" Constance asked, not really needing an answer. "You're thorough."

"I like to be prepared," Tom replied, staring down at her. She felt slightly uncomfortable, and put down the books she was holding.

"Well -- I'd better finish my essay," she said, looking at the chaotic mess of notes she had to sift through. His gaze followed hers, and rested on her pitifully blank scroll.

"Healing chants?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Observant, aren't you," Constance quipped. "And before you start, I've already heard all the jokes I care to about my singing, thank you very much."

The tall prefect's eyes were roaming over her notes, finally coming to rest on the ornate snake. "Chantwork keeps you busy, I take it?"

"Yes, well," she said defensively. "We can't be perfect students all the time." She looked at Riddle's books. "We haven't even started double predestination yet -- don't you ever get enough work to keep you occupied?"

Tom Riddle looked vaguely pleased with himself. "Divination is one of my best subjects," he said simply. "So I put extra effort in."

"All subjects are your best subjects," Constance murmured. She wasn't exaggerating. Although Aurelius always came first in Potions, and Richard in Arithmancy, Tom Riddle had consistently outdone almost everyone in almost everything since their first year at Hogwarts. He'd practically moved into the library during the few months before their OWL exams, and had come away with brilliant marks. As usual.

"I wasn't aware that anyone other than myself had bothered to read up on the references regarding visionweavers in last year's texts," he said, looking at her approvingly.

"Well -- it's interesting," replied Constance. "Grindelwald's attacks on them weren't that long ago. In wizarding terms, twenty years isn't that long at all -- yet nobody nowadays seems to know anything about them. And yet, when you read about them, you can see how valuable their power was. No wonder Grindelwald was desperate to get his hands on them."

Tom's expression was unreadable. "So that's why you're interested?" he asked.

"Not just that," she said. "One of my ancestors from way back was supposedly a visionweaver, although that could just be family rumour. She's been dead for at least two centuries, and her branch of the family died with her. I suppose we lost the vision blood traits with her, too," she ended ruefully. "Pity."

"You're interested in your own family history then," Riddle said softly. "Of course you are."

"You seem much more interested in Divination this year," Constance said bluntly, not bothering to hide her curiosity. "Last year you never seemed to pay any attention at all -- even if your marks never showed it," she added, slightly envious. "Is the new teacher inspiring?"

Tom's lip curled. "Compared to Lockhart," he said, "the Fat Friar's bloody inspiring. The new teacher is a Haven -- and I really shouldn't have to be telling a Malfoy this."

Constance sighed, irritably. "I know they're an old wizarding family, I know she's an ex-Slytherin, I know she's a much better teacher than Lockhart could ever hope to be --"

Tom interrupted her. "She is related to Erasmus Haven, obviously," he said, as though he were explaining it to a child. "You do know who he is?"

Constance was at a loss. Her copy of Wizarding Families in England and Europe had lain under her bed, unopened since her first year at Hogwarts. Not that she wasn't interested in preserving the purity of the bloodline, or anything....it was just, well, bloody boring reading, basically. Her brother was the one who'd memorized significant chunks of it. As long as she knew who the "right" families were, and who her fellow Slytherins were, she didn't need it. Until now, unfortunately.

Tom shook his head slowly, enjoying her discomfort. "Honestly," he said softly, "some people have no standards at all...no proper wizarding pride..."

"It has merely slipped my mind," Constance said, in as dignified a manner as possible.

Tom Riddle smirked. "Erasmus Haven was the greatest Seer of the last century," he informed her. "In fact, the whole Haven family had the Sight, to some degree. They were a very powerful family in their time, but for some reason they have decreased in number recently. Grindelwald killed a couple, I think. Our Divination teacher is one of the last Havens around. We're lucky to have her."

"How do you know all that?" demanded Constance. "I didn't think you were interested in genealogy, being, you know..." she trailed off, slightly embarrassed.

Riddle's eyes flickered downwards. "I may not be pureblooded," he said quietly, "but the Zalaras blood I have from my mother outweighs that from my Muggle father. Your brother assured me it was so."

Constance nodded. The seventh year student Marcus Malfoy would not have so much as given Riddle the time had his blood not been up to scratch. He never spoke to the Muggle-born students, even to insult them, and only deigned to speak to a few fortunate halfbloods. Although he'd never paid much attention to Tom Riddle in the year below, he'd presumably decided that Riddle was one halfblood worth bothering with. Since he had won a special services award, Slytherin House a hundred points, and had rid the school of an annoying, homicidal student who'd blatantly had giant blood in him, Tom Riddle had the Malfoy stamp of approval.

"He was right," she offered, slightly uncomfortable at her tactlessness. She wasn't particularly good at apologies. She'd never had much practice, and didn't want to start now.

Riddle shrugged, suddenly indifferent. "Family is important," he said. "To answer your question, however, I was interested in Professor Haven's background, and naturally I asked the House expert."

"My brother," Constance stated. "I should've guessed."

Riddle smiled serenely. "Marcus is, as ever, a fountain of knowledge."

He seemed to be about to say more when the common room door slid open and half a dozen students entered. They seemed to be very excited about something, and were talking loudly.

Paul Tudor, one of the Slytherin Chasers, said "They're here already, I heard," which earned him a pitying glance from the Keeper.

"Don't be ridiculous," Simon Harper replied. "They can't be here now, we'd have seen them arrive. They've got that bloody carriage thing, we'd have spotted it a mile off."

Teresa Symmonds, a pretty auburn haired girl spoke up quietly. "They wouldn't be using the carriage, though," she pointed out. "There's only ten of them coming. And they wouldn't want to be noticed, from what I've heard."

Tom Riddle glanced at Constance. "The Beauxbatons students, I presume," he murmured.

She nodded. Felix DuPre; had informed all the Slytherins yesterday evening of the imminent arrival of ten French students. Constance hadn't been too excited about it -- she expected that they'd all end up in Ravenclaw. Pity it wasn't Durmstrang being threatened, she thought callously. They got taught all sorts there, imagine how much you could pick up from them.

"How are they coming, then?" asked Honoria Corelli, a proud, haughty-looking seventh year.

"Portkey, probably," Tom Riddle said, turning to his books. "They'll have been at the Ministry, won't they, before coming here. They'll get sorted out there."

"What about the Hogwarts Express?" Paul queried.

"For ten people?" Honoria answered scathingly.

"Well, it's possible!" he snapped.

Honoria glared. "Many things are possible," she began, and was immediately interrupted by the Lestrange twins, who had just entered the room. The Beaters were almost identical, with shining dark hair, dark eyes, olive complexions, and a ruthless streak apparent in any Quidditch match.

"We got four of them!" Ariel Lestrange said proudly. "De la Tour's on her way here with them now!"

Paul Tudor looked smug. "Told you they were here," he said.

"Four?" Constance said sharply. "Are you sure?"

"Definite," replied Arya Lestrange.

"Saw them ourselves --" her brother continued.

"Outside De la Tour's office --"

"We were polishing the doorknobs --"

"As you do --"

"And Felix came out and told us to sod off --"

"Which we did --"

"But not before we saw inside --"

"Two girls and two boys --"

"And they're coming now," Ariel concluded triumphantly.

There was a pause whilst the Slytherin students digested this new, unexpected piece of information, then Honoria snapped, "We can't let them see the place like this!"

"Like what?" muttered Harper, rolling his eyes. "The place is spotless, you dozy bint."

Honoria, fortunately, had not heard him, and continued, "I expect the house elves have been slacking again. That's just bloody typical of this place, really it is. But what can you expect from such intellectually deficient creatures? You know, my mother would -- how long until they get here?" she turned on the Lestrange twins.

"About five minutes," Arya answered, flopping down into a large plush armchair by the fire.

"Give or take," said Ariel, as he draped himself decoratively over the back of his sister's chair.

"But don't make us tidy up --"

"Cos we're remarkably knackered --"

"To be blunt about it --"

"We ran all the way here --"

"Yes, yes, all right," Honoria said hastily, before they could continue. She looked around the common room disdainfully, and flicked her wand at the carpet. "Immaculo!" Presumably a few invisible dust balls vanished, as her stern expression relaxed slightly. Tucking her wand back inside her robes, she attempted to make the rich green sofa look more inviting by plumping up the cushions, murmuring something about house elves under her breath.

Simon Harper had planted himself firmly on the chair next to where Constance had been working, whilst the other Slytherins settled down in various places around the room. Clearly the place was clean enough for everyone except Honoria, who was now running her fingers along picture frames to check for dust.

"Is it just me being a filthy cow, or is there nothing wrong with the blasted common room?" Teresa mumbled.

"You're a filthy cow," said Simon placidly. Teresa gave him a superior sneer.

"Honestly, if she thinks this place is bad, she should see the state of the Gryffindor common room," murmured Paul Tudor. "They've probably got bubotubers growing under their furniture."

"How do you know?" asked Simon, suspiciously. "Been in there a few times have you?"

Paul grinned. "For one day only," he said. "For one blissful, joyful day only I was privileged to boldly go where no Slytherin has gone before, to see what no Slytherin has seen before --"

" -- What no Slytherin would want to see --" interrupted Simon, who'd obviously guessed where this was heading.

" -- I had the great honour of being invited into the Gryffindor common room," Paul continued blandly, running an idle hand through his fair hair.

"Flitwick let you in, didn't she?" Constance guessed, sniggering. "Go on, how far did you get?"

"Did you get past the common room?" Teresa teased. "To the stairs? Did you go all the way?"

"All the way -- to the girls' dormitory?" Constance laughed.

"Or did she come to her senses," Simon asked, smirking, "and kick you out?"

Paul looked offended. "A Gryffindor, kick me out? What a novel concept."

"Well, tell us then," Simon said. "What happened?"

Paul smiled a satisfied smile. "Let's just say Laura Flitwick knows when she's onto a good thing."

"Oh," Ariel said, eyes flashing maliciously, "and she was "onto" you, was she?"

"Even Flitwick's got more sense than that," giggled Arya.

"Oh, you wound me, you wound me," exclaimed Paul, clutching his heart dramatically.

"Jolly good," said Ariel brightly. "Keep up the good work, oh twin of mine."

"Mock me not," Paul moaned. "For each cruel word you utter is like a blade in my heart."

"Paul -- you haven't got one," Teresa laughed.

He considered this for a moment, chewing his lip. "Good point," he said.

Honoria had stopped scouring the cracks and crannies of the room for dust, and was glaring over at them. "Must you lower the tone in such a vulgar fashion?" she asked, haughtily.

As the twins began to tease the seventh year, Constance glanced over to where Tom Riddle was sitting. Instead of joining in the conversation, he had begun to read one of his overly heavy books, occasionally making notes on a piece of parchment. He showed no interest whatsoever in the rest of the room, and indeed, didn't seem to notice their existence. She wondered what it would be like to be able to lose oneself so completely in work. As if sensing her eyes upon him, he looked up and met her gaze. He looked slightly taken aback, and she instantly returned her attention to the irate Honoria.

"I despair of this house sometimes, I really do," Honoria was saying.

"You know your problem, Hon darling?" asked Ariel grinning.

Honoria glared at him. "Don't even think about it," she warned him.

"You need to relax," Arya said, her voice full of solicitude. "Stress can do you right in, you know."

Whatever Honoria was about to say in reply was lost, as the door slid open in a remarkably assertive fashion. The room was silent as Professor de la Tour walked in, followed by four nervous looking students.

These must be the Beauxbatons transfers,

Constance thought as she looked at them. They don't look up to much. Couple of good hexes would finish them off.

The head of Slytherin's eyes swept over the assembled students. Cool and composed as ever, there was no discernable trace of emotion in her voice as she addressed her house.

"You are no doubt aware by now that these four students have become part of Slytherin House. This -- arrangement -- is for the foreseeable future," she said. "Naturally, I expect you to do your best to welcome them, and make Slytherin House a safe haven for them. Jacques Sarrassin will be joining the seventh year students," continued the Head of Slytherin, gesturing to a short tanned boy with shrewd brown eyes. He nodded slightly to the watching students. "Remy Flaubert and Camille Chirac will be amongst the sixth years, and Elise Javert is joining the fifth years."

The other three students dipped their heads as their names were spoken. Remy Flaubert had light brown hair that needed cutting, and bright green eyes that darted around the common room. Neither he nor the girl beside him -- Camille -- looked particularly distraught at having been Sorted into Slytherin. She had dark, shoulder length hair that swung whenever she moved her head, and very pale skin. The youngest girl, Elise, looked the most nervous. She kept fiddling with a strand of blonde hair, as soon as she pushed it behind her ear, it immediately fell back into place.

"The prefects will show you to your dormitories," Professor de la Tour said calmly. "They will also inform you of any rules and regulations you need to be aware of during your time at Hogwarts. I do not expect any problems." Her eyes swept once more over her Slytherin students, and when she was satisfied that her point had been made, she left them to it.

Constance felt a small twinge of pity for the new students. Starting afresh at a new school would never be easy, but starting from scratch in Slytherin would be even worse. Loyalties and allegiances were not swiftly forged in Salazar's house, even when you had the best social standing. Although she'd been lucky in having known Aurelius practically since birth, it had taken her, a Malfoy, several years to develop a strong bond with Richard Marlowe. The innate Slytherin reserve, the desire to disguise anything important with flippancy and sarcasm, often made it difficult to get the full measure of people. Then again, she thought, these students had been Sorted into Slytherin for a reason. De la Tour's last sentence made it perfectly clear that they'd have to learn to deal with whatever welcome they were given themselves. There were no safe havens.

Adapt, or sod off. Simple as that.

*