The Serpentine Chain Part 1 - Year Of The Snake

The Serpentine Chain Part One

Chapter Six -- Slytherins At Play

That evening the four ex-Beauxbatons students received a grilling from the curious Slytherins. Remy Flaubert did not appear to be at all at a loss in his new environment. Sinking down onto a floor cushion, green eyes dancing with malicious humour, he answered their questions with such confidence that it was apparent even to the most unobservant that the Flaubert family was of considerable standing in France.

"Old and respectable," Aurelius whispered to his two friends. He'd come into the common room with Richard, Felix, Marcus, and quite a few other Slytherins shortly after de la Tour had left. The Head Boy had briefly welcomed the new students, introducing them to the prefects, then had gone to sit down with Honoria Corelli. Aurelius had headed straight for Constance's table, a rather tired looking Richard in tow.

"Where've you been?" she'd asked, as Richard yawned widely, resting his head on the table.

"Library," Richard muttered, glancing at Aurelius. "Had that Arithmancy essay to finish."

"Took ages," Aurelius agreed. "So these are them, then?" he said, paying no real attention to grammar. His black eyes had taken in the two sixth year students, revealing nothing. His knowledge of wizarding heritage was extensive, Constance knew. He was on par with her brother there, and that was saying something.

"What's Beauxbatons like?" Teresa Symmonds asked Remy curiously, a slight smile playing on her lips. "I've never met anyone from there before."

Remy laughed easily. "It is not at all like Hogwarts," he said, in flawless English. "Much warmer, of course -- and much less stone. Beauxbatons is less forbidding, I think."

"Less Gothic," added Camille Chirac. "More -- pastoral." Although her English was nowhere near as good as Remy's, she spoke with hardly any trace of an accent. Unlike the apparently outgoing Remy, she seemed quieter, more watchful.

"Chiracs are alright too," Aurelius murmured. "Not as old as the Flauberts, but definitely acceptable."

"Symmonds level?" Constance said quietly, so that only Richard and Aurelius would hear, as she tried to find a British equivalent for Camille Chirac's social status.

Aurelius nodded. "About that. They'll do."

"What about the other two? Javert and Sarrassin?" she asked, then paused.

Her brother Marcus had halted his conversation with Tom Riddle, to talk to Jacques Sarrassin. He appeared to have asked him a question, and judging by his curled lip, he was displeased with the answer.

"Why didn't you choose Durmstrang?" he asked the other French students suddenly, his voice cutting through the chattering. "Why Hogwarts?"

Camille Chirac met his gaze calmly. "I cannot answer for the other students," she said. "But I chose to come here because I am familiar with the country, I speak the language, and the syllabus is not vastly different to that of Beauxbatons."

"We'd have been disadvantaged at Durmstrang," Remy agreed. "They've been taught Curses, Pyromancy -- all sorts -- since their first year. It'd have been too much to catch up on in just two years."

Marcus looked dissatisfied, but did not press the subject. Instead, he turned back to Riddle and continued with his conversation. Try as she might, Constance could not make out what they were talking about, and wondered if they'd cast a Silencing Charm over themselves. Marcus was whispering animatedly, gesticulating rapidly with his hands. Asphodel, her brother's cat, purred contentedly as she wove her way around their legs. Tom Riddle was leaning back in his seat, twirling his wand between his fingers. Occasionally the tall sixth year student would interrupt her brother, shaking his head. It wasn't the first intense conversation she'd seen between them, and not the first time she'd been curious as to what the two talked about. She'd asked her brother about it once, and had been rebuffed.

"We're talking about man-things," Marcus had said curtly, frowning at her. "You wouldn't understand, so keep your nose out."

She'd scowled, and said with false sweetness, "Aw, man-things, eh? Feeling a little insecure maybe? That's so touching -- I'd no idea what a sensitive soul you were."

He hadn't bothered to respond, but had given her an irritated glare before returning to his work.

Aurelius' voice dragged her out of her reverie. "What do you think he's so bothered about?"

Looking away from her brother's conversation, she replied, "Whether they're from right thinking families, probably."

"You mean, why did they choose Hogwarts when they could've gone to Durmstrang?" Aurelius asked.

"Probably," Constance said, considering it. "Marcus wanted to go there, you know, but our parents thought it was too far away. They want to keep us nearby. He was really annoyed when he got sent here instead -- thought Durmstrang would've suited him more."

"Durmstrang's very selective about its students," Aurelius said pensively. "Admittedly, so was Salazar Slytherin, but we're only one house -- Hogwarts accepts anyone, whatever their origins."

"That'll be why he's asking," Constance decided. "He wants to know if they chose Hogwarts because they're Muggle-lovers. You wouldn't expect them to have been Sorted into Slytherin if that'd been the case though -- the Hat doesn't make mistakes like that."

"Sounds like they just wanted to be in familiar territory," said Aurelius. "I wouldn't want to have to cram five years worth of Pyromancy into two."

"Hell, no," Constance agreed, suddenly tired.

It was nearly half past ten. She looked at Richard, who was very nearly asleep with his head resting on his arms, and prodded him in the side. He blinked sleepily.

"If you're so tired, go to bed," Constance said, noticing he looked rather pale.

"Can't," Richard mumbled. "Got an Arithmancy essay due for tomorrow."

"I thought you'd just done that?" she asked, confused.

"I meant Transfiguration," Richard said hastily, correcting himself.

"Bed's a good idea," Aurelius said, cutting them both off. "Come on, Marlowe."

And with that, Aurelius Snape shepherded his sleepy friend through the door leading to the boys' dormitory, leaving behind a rather bewildered Constance.

*

The four long house tables were laden with large bowls of porridge, plates of toast, bread rolls, eggs and bacon. The enchanted ceiling was a fresh blue, smattered with a few white wisps of cloud. Constance and Teresa were sitting next to Aurelius, who was poring over a rather tattered looking copy of Advanced Arithmancy. He'd barely glanced up at them as they joined him, and greeted them absently. Richard, to the other side of Aurelius, was busy telling Camille and Remy about the teachers and lessons they'd be having that morning, whilst the Lestrange twins were talking Quidditch in very loud voices in order to ensure that Jacques Sarrassin -- who had flown as a Chaser at his old school -- could understand. He looked politely interested as the twins energetically demonstrated the Barrowdown Block -- a vicious Beaters assault -- using their porridge spoons for extra emphasis.

Constance had only just started to eat her toast when a rushing sound overhead indicated the arrival of the owl post. The birds circled the hall, dropping letters down onto the tables below. There were more than the usual number of screech owls delivering newspapers this morning - the arrival of the Beauxbatons transfer students had awakened everybody's interest. The whole school wanted to know what was happening to the European wizarding community. The Ministry had sent Aurors abroad to help with the Resistance in Occupied countries, but the Dark forces had yet to target Britain. Grindelwald was a distant threat to most students, a name to be avoided if possible, but so far the dark wizard had had little impact on the British magical world in general. The presence of the Beauxbatons students was an abrupt reminder of the fragile nature of their own security. Many students had taken out subscriptions to the newspapers so they could keep up to date.

A screech owl arrived for Richard, bearing his morning copy of the Daily Prophet. He put his pumpkin juice down and unfolded it, glancing at the front page.

"We're in the news!" he said, startled.

Aurelius looked up from his book, surprised. "Us?!"

"Well, not us personally," Richard amended. "Hogwarts is mentioned -- but it's Beauxbatons mainly." He passed over the paper so they could all see. Constance leaned over Aurelius' shoulder to get a better view.

SITUATION IN EUROPE GRAVE - BEAUXBATONS STUDENTS FLEE

read the banner headline.

Shocking reports from the Ministry of Magic have revealed that the future of French wizarding education is in grave danger,

writes Special Correspondent Martha Figg. The Daily Prophet can reveal that the magical school of Beauxbatons - once a bastion for freethinking witches and wizards throughout Europe -- has succumbed to the insidious advance of Dark forces. Since the discovery of three Grindelwald supporters on the Beauxbatons staff, confidence in the school's security and protection has rapidly diminished. Despite the attempts of Mlle Jeury, Headmistress to reduce panic, it is clear that the school will shortly be facing closure.

This comes as no surprise to French parents -- most have already withdrawn their children from the school. Several have transferred to Hogwarts, our own school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, whilst many more have applied to study at the Swiss school in Zurich. Pavel Dolohov has confirmed that Beauxbatons refugees have also been accepted at Durmstrang.

One father, who wished to remain nameless, described the situation as "terrifying -- our children could have been attacked at any time. Schools are supposed to be safe -- this has really shaken our faith in that belief." He's not alone in this sentiment. Other parents have voiced criticism of Mlle Jeury's fitness to remain in the teaching profession. "I question her judgement," said one irate parent. "She's responsible for exposing our children to three supporters of the most powerful and dangerous Dark wizard this century. What we want to know is how this was allowed -- we want answers." French officials at the Commune de la Sorcerie are preparing to launch an inquiry into Mlle Jeury's actions, the Headmistress herself, however, refused to comment.

Wizarding analysts have considered what this could mean for the magical community in Britain. Although our Aurors are playing an active role abroad through their undercover work with La Resistance, the Ministry has not yet committed us to a more open role. As public fear increases with the fall of Beauxbatons, a full-scale attack upon Britain looks more likely. A spokesman for the Ministry says that it is "highly probable" that Britain will not remain passive in the war against the Grindelwald's Dark League. Rumours regarding unscrupulous British wizards who profit from the black market by supplying the League's forces are already being investigated by the Department of Mysteries, and loopholes in Customs regulations are soon to be tightened.

"Mademoiselle Jeury was not entirely to blame," said Camille Chirac, who had been watching them. "She became Headmistress a year after the first League member joined Beauxbatons, she wasn't responsible for him."

"What did they do at Beauxbatons?" Richard asked curiously. "What did they teach?"

"Monsieur Duchamps was supposed to teach us how to resist the Dark Arts -- like your Professor Malfoy," Camille glanced over to Constance's uncle at the staff table. He was sitting in between the Head of Gryffindor and Professor Cale, and, judging by the scowl on his face, was not overly happy about the arrangement.

Remy Flaubert nodded. "We were all shocked when it turned out he was a member of Grindelwald's League. He just didn't seem the type, if you know what I mean."

"It's always the ones you least expect," said Aurelius Snape, as sagely as possible with his mouth full of toast.

The bell rang to start classes, and everyone gathered their things. "What do you have now?" Constance asked Camille politely.

The French girl checked her timetable. "Defence against the Dark Arts," she said. "With Gryffindors, yes?"

Overhearing them, Paul Tudor groaned. "Why, oh why must I face Andrew Potter this early in the morning? Why? Oh why? Wherefore is such a thing possible?"

"Shut it Paul," said Simon Harper, flicking a few breadcrumbs at him. "Drama queen," he flung in for good measure.

"It's far too early in the morning to have to deal with the brat pack," Constance pointed out, walking towards the door. "Miryum Chandler's so sodding cheerful, it's sickening."

"Morning people should be killed," Richard agreed, yawning loudly. "We're going to be late if we don't hurry, by the way."

Despite dire predictions on Richard's part involving Professor Malfoy disinheriting his niece if they were late, the group of Slytherins were definitely dawdling as they went down a narrow, cramped corridor.

"So Slytherin and Gryffindor are rivals?" Remy asked curiously as they headed towards Professor Malfoy's classroom. "I have heard of this, I think."

"Well," Paul answered. "You could describe Salazar Slytherin as a bloody-minded, bitter, vicious, vindictive, malicious, stuck up, elitist, cruel, deranged and downright evil wizard, and you'd still have been a lot politer about him than what the Gryffindor lot are about us."

The frowning Remy was trying to decipher that sentence when Richard took pity on him.

"Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor founded Hogwarts, along with Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff, over a thousand years ago," he explained, as they walked down the corridor. "According to Hogwarts: A History, the rivalry between our houses goes right back to the founders."

"It's not surprising," Paul added, "bearing in mind that Slytherin was forced out of Hogwarts because of Godric, but the Gryffindors do like to pin it all on us."

"Very touching," came a male voice from behind them. "Why not tell them the truth, now?"

Constance knew who it was without having to turn around. The Gryffindor brat pack, as she liked to call them -- Andrew Potter, Jacob Bernstein, Maria Ashington and Stuart Coombes. Loud, obnoxious pranksters, they never missed an opportunity to cause trouble with the Slytherins by championing whichever hapless Hufflepuff had been the brunt of the latest joke. Always on guard, defending the people's rights, she thought irritably. Self-righteous idiots.

The Slytherin students turned slowly around to face the challenge, spreading out until the corridor was blocked.

"Oh look!" exclaimed Simon. "Potter's actually managed to put words together and form a sentence! Perhaps the effect of all those Bludgers is finally starting to wear off!"

It wasn't the best of insults, but as the Gryffindors were outnumbered anyway, it didn't matter.

"Very funny, Harper," snapped Maria Ashington, a lanky girl with thick red hair. "How long did it take you to think that one up?"

"Oh how can you ask such a heartless question, Maria my sweet?" asked Richard, smirking. "You know time stands still whenever he sees your face."

Maria's cheeks turned as red as her hair. Not attractive, Constance thought.

Jacob Bernstein glared. "Watch it, Marlowe," he said threateningly.

"You can't hold him responsible," Constance said, eyes widening innocently. "Boys will be boys."

"And you do have such a beautiful face, Maria darling," Paul chipped in, gallantly.

Remembering Laura Flitwick, Constance shot him a look -- brainless sod probably meant it as well.

"Face that launched a thousand ships, that," Richard Marlowe continued, grinning maliciously.

"Course, they were sailing away from it," Simon sniggered, and they all laughed.

Andrew Potter was practically foaming at the mouth. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he exclaimed furiously, as Maria, close to tears, turned on her heel and fled. "You think you're so damn special it gives you the right to walk all over people --"

"Potter, Potter, Potter," sighed Aurelius, who until now had not spoken. "How can I put this to you, in words you'll understand?"

"What are you talking about, Snape?" spat Bernstein.

"It's quite simple, really," said Constance soothingly. "You'll get the hang of it soon enough."

"You see, Potter," continued Aurelius nonchalantly. "There's a difference between merely thinking you're something special...."

"And actually being special," Richard finished for him. "But not to worry, eh?"

"It's not something they'll ever have to worry about," Aurelius said to the other Slytherins, disregarding Stuart Coombe's disgusted spluttering. "Best they don't worry their little heads with such difficult concepts...I was wrong to have brought it up..."

"You make me sick!" Andrew Potter hissed. "You've made Maria cry and you couldn't care less!"

"Well, he seems to have summed up that situation pretty succinctly," Richard said to Aurelius. "Maybe he'll grasp the rest when he's older?"

Potter's temper was never far from boiling point, and suddenly reached it. "That's enough from you!" he shouted, wand in hand. The remaining Gryffindors moved closer, flanking him.

Richard Marlowe and Andrew Potter were staring at each other, wands out.

"Well?" asked Richard softly. "What are you going to do?"

"Just one word from you -- one more," Potter answered, equally quietly.

"This is an example of Gryffindor stupidity -- I mean, bravery," Constance said in a stage whisper to Remy and Camille, who were watching with avid interest. She was holding her wand firmly, eyes gleaming. She'd been dying for an opportunity to try out her new hexes on something other than a house elf.

"Shut it, you stuck up bitch," snapped Stuart.

She smiled sweetly at him. "Come on, then Stuart...show us what you're made of...unless you're afraid of me?"

He scowled, but made no move to attack her. "I'm not dueling a girl," he said.

Trust a Gryffindor to make it too easy.

"Oh good," smiled Constance, and then "Tremens!"

Stuart suddenly began to shake. She smiled sweetly at his stunned expression as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor, where he continued shaking with increased violence. What a nice little hex that is. Highly satisfied, she turned her attention to the others.

Andrew Potter and Richard seemed to have abandoned their magical training entirely in favour of fists, and were rolling on the floor in a really undignified fashion. Aurelius and Bernstein had attacked each other at the same time, the Slytherin's Vomiting Curse colliding with the Gryffindor's Jelly Legs Jinx. Who the hell uses the Jelly Legs Jinx anyway, she thought, and fired a quick Densaugeo in Bernstein's direction.

"You know, I feel really superfluous here," Paul said thoughtfully as he watched Aurelius narrowly dodge a stream of blue light from Bernstein's wand. "Impedimenta!" he called, hurling the jinx at the Slytherin's opponent.

"Only here?" Simon said, grinning. Then - "What did you do to Coombes?" he asked Constance.

She allowed herself the briefest moment of smugness before answering. "Just made use of a little hex my uncle taught me during the summer. I'm a good student, aren't I?"

Camille and Remy were laughing openly at Stuart, who was still shaking on the floor. Somewhat regretfully, she took the hex off him -- tempting though it was, she didn't want to do any serious damage.

"So, this is Hogwarts house rivalry," murmured Camille.

"This is payback," said Paul grimly. "Makes up for what they did last time we clashed."

Remy's curious "Oh?" was forestalled by the arrival of a very angry Professor Seraphim. Behind him was Maria Ashington, eyes puffy.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" cried Seraphim, pointing his wand at Aurelius and Jacob Bernstein. Both their wands instantly flew out of their hands, and they stepped backwards slightly.

"Ah," Camille said very softly. "I presume this is punishment?"

Oh shite

, Constance thought.

"Would one of you like to explain what is going on here?" asked the Head of Gryffindor, eyes flashing with rage.

Richard Marlowe stopped struggling with Andrew Potter and sat up. His brown hair was in a severe state of disarray, and he had the beginnings of a black eye. Potter was no better, Constance was pleased to see. His lip was split and there was blood all over his robes. Suddenly, he looked incredibly nervous.

"They attacked us, Professor," Remy spoke up guilelessly. Camille nodded, eyes wide.

Constance was slightly taken aback, but pleased that the new students had decided where their loyalties lay. Easy decision, really, when you considered the alternatives. Being outcasts in Slytherin House wouldn't be that enjoyable, would it?

"Really?" Professor Seraphim asked, voice laden with disbelief.

Andrew Potter, instantly incensed, shouted "They're lying, sir, it wasn't like that at all!"

"I'm quite sure it wasn't, Potter," replied the Head of Gryffindor, eyes flickering over the two French students in disdain.

"She did something to Stuart, sir," Jacob Bernstein said angrily. "He was shaking on the floor like he was having some kind of seizure -- I think it was the Cruciatus curse sir!"

Constance couldn't help herself. "No it bloody well wasn't, you idiot," she said, trying to restrain a laugh.

Professor Seraphim's eyes bored into her. "You are aware of the penalty for perfoming Unforgivable Curses?" he asked.

"Yes, quite aware sir," she answered. "But I didn't perform any Unforgivables today." She stressed the last word, just to test his reaction. It didn't disappoint.

"Miss Malfoy," he said, absolutely livid. "Do you think that this is a joking matter?!"

"No sir," she replied, suddenly submissive. She didn't want to push the boat too far.

"I am absolutely appalled at your behaviour," Professor Seraphim said, voice tight. "All of you," he added, glancing at the Gryffindors, who looked suitably penitent. "I would have thought you would have been trying to set a good example for the transfer students, instead of roping them into bad habits. Two weeks detention. For all of you. And I shall be taking fifty points from both houses - this kind of behaviour is never acceptable, whatever the provocation."

The Slytherins relaxed slightly -- they'd easily make up those points in Professor Malfoy's lessons.

"I will be seeing your head of House about this," continued Professor Seraphim. "And you will each apologize to Miss Ashington for your comments."

Que sera, sera

, Constance thought.

"I'm sorry I said that you had such a beautiful face, Maria," Paul said, eyes dancing with malice.

"And I'm sorry I said that you had the face that launched a thousand ships," Richard Marlowe said innocently.

"And I'm sorry I said they were sailing away from it," Simon said.

As Maria flushed again, Constance sniggered mentally. Professor Seraphim looked ready to shit bricks. You asked for it, she thought.

"Get to class. Now!" he barked, red with fury. "Not you, Miss Malfoy," he snapped, as the students began to disperse. "I want a word with you -- in my office."

Oh fantastic.

He stormed off, evidently expecting her to follow. She glowered at his retreating back, and flashed a pointed glance at Aurelius and Richard. Understanding her meaning, they hurried quickly to what remained of their Defence against the Dark Arts lesson.

She reluctantly set off after Professor Seraphim, wondering how long before her uncle caught up with them.

This could be fun.

*